


Out of the Darkness

by Eliiander



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: !hurtShawn, Consensual Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, M/M, Mental Anguish, Non-Consensual Spanking, Shassie, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:47:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 36,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25943827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eliiander/pseuds/Eliiander
Summary: When Shawn sees the end of a case go horribly wrong, he can't handle it. In the middle of his attempts to drink himself away from the memories, Carlton is the one who shows up to try and save him. But who saves who?
Relationships: Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer
Comments: 10
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress and I will be adding more to it, but where it stops could make a wrap. This is my first Psych fanfiction so please be kind. While I originally intended it to be from both perspectives (Shawn and Carlton), it does turn more Lassie-centric as it goes. This is due largely in part to the fact I discovered Shawn is a very hard character for me to write whereas Lassie almost writes himself for me. Constructive criticism welcome and I hope someone out there finds this enjoying to read. Eventually I expect to be able to break this up into chapters, but it is not currently. Also, sorry about the format, I'm learning the archive as I go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated from where this work originally left off and have broken it into chapters. Hopefully this will make it an easier read (and hopefully I don't mess it up when I do it). I will continue to update it. It's probably three-quarters complete. Again this is the first Psych fanfic I worked on. Comments welcome, constructive criticism welcome. I hope everyone enjoys.

Shawn yanked open his closet door and grabbed the backpack laying on the floor. His brain wouldn’t quiet, his eidetic memory and hyper-observation showing him every detail of the last few hours with crystal clear, hi-def clarity over and over. His heart was thudding almost painfully in his chest and although later recall would probably come, he didn’t at this point even remember how he had gotten home.

He’d had a great run playing the psychic and helping solve cases for the SBPD but with the sound of one shot, things had gotten too real, too intense. Innocent children were not supposed to die. Young boys were not supposed to have their chests torn open by some crackpot petty thief that had burned their brain out on drugs.

Shawn didn’t do real. He didn’t do intense. When faced with trials, Shawn ran. He ran far and fast and he never looked back. He’d done it before for lesser things. And he was going to do it again, right now.

When his vision trebled from tears, he harshly brushed them away and in that brief darkness, a pair of ice blue eyes swam across the chaos in his brain. Blue eyes that could flash like chips of cold diamonds one second and simulate the azure colors of a cloudless summer sky the next; eyes that had set him off balance since the day he had first seen them towering over him in an interrogation room; eyes belonging to someone who barely considered him a co-worker, let alone a friend.

Shawn had tried. He had tried so hard to not have feelings for someone as apparently unattainable as Carlton Lassiter appeared to be, but Shawn denying himself anything never worked. So, he had spent the last three years creating and orchestrating every conceivable reason to touch, poke, and harass. All to no avail. Yet the hope that had settled into his heart and never dulled. Even through all of the one-night stands he blew through that hope had remained. If he booked now, that hope would be crushed and perhaps it would crush Shawn right along with it.

He stopped shoving clothes in the backpack. Those eyes, that face, swirled in with the chaos leaving Shawn feeling like he was going to explode. Turning suddenly, he threw the backpack with a guttural cry. The backpack knocked over his bedside lamp and shattered it. Clothes spewed out across the floor and bed as the pack sailed on to take down two pictures off the wall before coming to a rest in the corner.

Shawn went to the kitchen and yanked open the cupboard above his refrigerator and pulled out a half empty bottle of Jim Beam from the back corner. No frilly foo-foo drinks this time. Without hesitation, he took the cap off and downed half of what was left in one long draw.

* * *

Shawn stared blankly at the television from where he lay on the couch. The alcohol induced fog blanketing his brain made it impossible to focus on the moving picture so his gaze lingered somewhere near the center of the screen, seeing only flashes of colored movement. The sound was up as loud as it would go, but it was still not loud enough to drown out that single scream that kept playing over and over in his head, that scream of utter shock and horrific pain. The moving colors were not enough to stop him from seeing the boy fall, from seeing that bright red flower that destroyed the young chest as the bullet ripped through it.

His breath hitched in his chest and to ward off the impending sob, he tried to take another swallow from the bottle he held loosely in one hand. The partial bottle he had started with had grown to a pile of five or six empty bottles scattered across his floor and coffee table. Most of the final swallow in the current bottle wound up on the front of his T-shirt.

He had no real idea how long he had been on that couch. After an initial trip to the liquor store down the street he’d only left for calls of nature. He had a vague recollection of hearing Gus and his Dad pounding at the door a few times with his Dad hollering vague threats about breaking doors and windows, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to see them, to see anybody. He had failed so many times in his life, always looking at it as more of an adventure than a failure. But he had never let anybody die. You just couldn’t screw up any worse than that. You couldn’t. And to top it all off, he had compounded the worst possible screw up with the added screw up of not putting this town in his rearview mirror. And over what? A pipe dream that he could have a relationship with some uptight, straight as an arrow, pin head detective?

As darkness loomed, offering him another small respite from the scream, the memory, a shadow flowed across the moving colors of the television. Curiosity won a brief victory as he tried to focus on the shadow, but the darkness was too close and it pulled him down before he could see what it was.


	2. Chapter Two

_45 minutes earlier_

Carlton finished the last of his paperwork and dropped it into his bottom desk drawer. The station had been surprisingly quiet, and Shawn Spencer free, for the last few days and he had managed to catch up on all his paperwork. He had enjoyed the time immensely, feeling more at home at the station than at any time since that crackpot nuisance had first weaseled his way into their midst. But something was nagging him just enough to damper his enjoyment. He hated when things nagged him. Especially when it concerned Shawn.

In the chaos following the last case they had worked together, after the boy had been shot, Carlton had caught a glimpse of Shawn’s face: Shock, horror, and…guilt. He hadn’t had a chance to ponder those emotions in the aftermath but his brain had continued to flash back to that moment in the last few days, pawing at it over and over without Carlton’s consent. He made it a point to _not_ spend his time thinking about Shawn Spencer for a myriad of reasons, yet he kept returning to it and it was there that he suddenly found himself as he stood up to put his suit jacket one.

Carlton had never thought it was a good idea to have a civilian on the payroll. Especially one that seemed to thrive on risks and was as lackadaisical on procedures as Shawn was. But for all of Shawn’s swagger, and all of his apparent self-assurance, Carlton knew in his gut that the faux psychic wasn’t prepared to deal with something like this on an emotional level. Even the most seasoned officers had trouble dealing with situations like what had happened to that child. There was a reason that there were department mandated appointments with the staff psychologist for all of the officers that had been involved.

Carlton didn’t blame Shawn. He didn’t blame himself or anyone else involved, including himself. He wasn’t going to play the bravado card and say he hadn’t had a few nightmares over it, but no one could blame themselves when some SOB burned their brains out like the shooter had. There was no second guessing what someone like that was going to do, short of being a true psychic. And Carlton knew Shawn was no damn psychic.

But that look…psychic or not, Shawn believed the shooting was his fault and Carlton knew feeling blame wasn’t something Shawn would deal well with.

Carlton was just ready to walk away from his desk when Juliet approached him. She was just finishing up a call on her cell and Carlton paused when he heard her say, “Okay. Yes, I will. Okay. Bye, Gus.”

She closed her phone, her brow creased into a worry line.

“What’s up, O’Hara?” he asked.

“That was Gus,” she said pocketing her phone. “He was calling to see if we had heard from Shawn lately.”

Carlton felt his stomach give a sickening lurch at her words, but he kept his face and tone crisp and totally business, “Why?”

“Well, apparently neither Gus nor Mr. Spencer have heard from him in three days. They’ve both been to his apartment. His motorcycle is there and they can hear the television, but he won’t answer the door.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Carlton said briskly, his voice much more confident than he actually felt. “He’s probably holed up in there with his flavor of the week. When he wants to talk to them, he will. Good night, O’Hara.”

He turned on his heels and walked away, leaving Juliet standing at his desk.

A few minutes later, Carlton was sitting in his air-conditioned car gripping the steering wheel hard and staring at his white knuckles. He was on the verge of making a decision that he knew could potentially change his life irrevocably and decisions like that were not ones he made easily. He argued to himself that Shawn didn’t need him getting involved with whatever was going on. Shawn had Gus and his Dad to keep him on track. If Henry Spencer got worried enough, a front door wasn’t going to keep him out.

Shawn wasn’t Carlton’s responsibility, yet Carlton felt responsible for him. Somehow, some way, Carlton had begun to feel very protective of that little wise-acre. It was easy to bottle and hide some of the other emotions he had for Shawn but that one was winning against him. Most of his explosive tirades towards Shawn was the direct result of that protectiveness. Fortunately, they were just viewed as him being an asshole. He hated himself for those feelings, but there it was.

Sighing deeply, Carlton dropped the car in gear and headed for Shawn’s house. He knew he was going to regret this. He just knew it.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Carlton was parked in front of Shawn’s rental place. Darkness had fully fallen over Santa Barbara by then and the apartment was dark, save for the flickering of light that must be the television. The head detective tried one last time to tell himself to stay out of this before shutting off the car and getting out. He walked up to the front door, fishing a lock pick out of his pocket. Within seconds he had gained entry and walked in, shutting the door silently behind him.

When he found Shawn sprawled out on his couch a few moments later, shock rolled through him, stopping him short. It was so much worse than he could have imagined. In the dancing light of the television Carlton could see Shawn’s eyes, unfocused and glistening. His chest jerked and he lifted the near empty bottle, apparently completely oblivious to Carlton’s presence. Most of what was left went on Shawn’s T-shirt. Seconds later his eyes slipped closed and the hand holding the bottle dropped to the floor.

Carlton reached over and turned the television down, his ears ringing in the sudden silence. He turned back to the couch, studying Shawn with a sour pang. He wanted to be angry at him, wanted to yell at him and ask him just what the hell he thought he was doing. But he couldn’t be angry. He couldn’t yell. Carlton knew there was no part of Shawn’s character that was prepared to deal with what had happened. And when all his jokes and inane movie references failed, this was what was left: a man-child with no clue how to deal with life when it got too serious.

Sighing, Carlton went over and picked up the empty bottle of Jim Beam and set it on the coffee table with the rest of the empty bottles. It looked like Shawn had been doing nothing but drinking himself into oblivion. He reached down and shook Shawn’s shoulder harshly, “Spencer.”

Shawn didn’t move and Carlton shook him harder, “Spencer!”

Shawn’s eyes fluttered open briefly, unfocused and dark. He mumbled something completely unintelligible and his eyes slipped closed again. Giving up on the idea of at least moving Shawn into the bedroom, Carlton set about cleaning the living room.


	3. Chapter Three

_Shawn stood looking at the chaos surrounding him. Police officers sheltered behind their cars; pedestrians had scattered. The object of everyone’s focus was across the street screaming nonsense and waving his pistol like the madman he was. The woman he had taken hostage was trapped against him, the arm not holding the pistol wrapped around her tightly. Shawn’s brain was in red-line overdrive as it categorized every nuance of the chaos from where he was flattened against the side of Carlton’s car. Carlton was next to him and for the first time, the detective’s proximity was the absolute last thing on Shawn’s mind. Carlton was yelling into his walkie-talkie but his words were lost in with the other voices that were screaming orders and directions._

_Shawn seen the boy out of the corner of his eye. He saw the maniac see him at the same time. He knew. And then his Dad’s voice reached him above the chaos, “You should have seen it sooner, Shawn. I taught you better than that. You didn’t use your gift, Son. You didn’t see all the hats.”_

_“Enough with the damn hats, Dad!” Shawn yelled, turning to face his Dad who had suddenly appeared next to Carlton. He wanted to scream at him, to tell him to leave him alone, to tell him it was his fault Shawn was in this situation in the first place. But the shot and the scream that followed tore through the air, stopping his words before they could pass through his lips._

_“You should have seen this coming.” His Dad said again, “This is your fault.”_

_And in the sudden deafening silence, Shawn felt everyone’s gaze on him, accusing him, crucifying him._

* * *

Carlton leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as Shawn’s mumblings began again. For the most part, he couldn’t understand what Shawn was saying, but he made out enough to understand he was reliving the culmination of the shooting, again. He had been keeping his vigil for nearly six hours now, making sure Shawn stayed breathing and didn’t throw up and choke. In that time, Shawn had relived it no less than four times. Each time, Carlton made out a few of the mumbles here and there. Not many of them made sense, but enough of them did that Carlton knew exactly what was happening.

Shawn’s eyes suddenly snapped open and he started to lurch up, screaming incoherently. Carlton reacted without thought, throwing an arm across Shawn’s chest and pushing him back down. Speaking as gently as he could amid the screaming, he said, “Spencer, stop. You’re okay. Calm down. Come on. You’re okay. Stop.”

Shawn’s screaming tapered off, his eyes rolling wildly until they connected with Carlton’s. Their gazes locked, Shawn’s chest heaving under Carlton’s arm as Carlton continued talking to him.

“You’re okay, Shawn.” Carlton said, unaware at the moment he had moved from Spencer to Shawn, “You’re at your house. I need you to calm down. Breathe, Shawn. Just breathe.”

After a few moments, Shawn’s breathing began to slow and the panic slowly drained from his face.

“Look at me.” Carlton said, holding Shawn’s eyes with his own.

“Lassie?” Shawn asked finally, confusion taking the place of the panic. The word was still significantly slurred, telling Carlton the alcohol was still pretty strong in his system.

Carlton debated on trying to get him into the bedroom while he was awake, but decided against it, instead repeating,” You’re okay, Shawn. Just relax.”

“But…how…why are…” Shawn blinked heavily and with just a couple more words from Carlton he was back asleep.

Carlton sat back to resume his vigil. He had had some time to think while he had been sitting and watching Shawn. He didn’t necessarily like where it had taken him. Carlton was no stranger to lying to himself. He’d spent years honing the skill when he was with Victoria and became so good at it that even he believed the lies. He believed he wasn’t different, that life with Victoria was right. But, apparently, he wasn’t good enough because Victoria had left.

The lie worked better with Shawn, mostly because Shawn made it very easy to perpetuate the lie. Since the first time he had met Shawn in that interrogation room, Shawn had known exactly which of Carlton’s buttons to push for maximum effect. And he apparently thrived off pushing them as frequently as possible. Letting himself get irritated was the surest way Carlton could think of to not have to examine some of the other feelings he had for this overdramatic faux psychic.

As time went on, however, instead of getting easier, as it had with Victoria, it became harder and harder to sell the lie to himself. Mostly because Shawn had proven so often that he was exceptional at solving crime. Carlton didn’t know his secret, although being psychic was definitely not the reason. He was like a magician, misdirecting everyone with his obnoxious flailing and showmanship while making the ordinary look extraordinary. Carlton would never admit it to anyone, but he respected Shawn’s ability. And even that was something he barely admitted to himself.

But there it was.

As time had passed, Carlton had felt his attraction for Shawn grow. And with it, the amount of lying he had to do to himself continued to increase until here he was, keeping a silent vigil and unable to lie to himself any longer.

Now the question was, what was he going to do? Despite all of the touching and unabashed pawing over the years, Carlton was sure Shawn wasn’t interested in anything that didn’t come without loose morals and a big chest. Carlton had seen him blow through too many women in the last couple of years to not know that. So, what was going to happen when Shawn finally came to his senses and wanted to know what Carlton was doing there?

Carlton sighed deeply. What indeed.


	4. Chapter Four

Shawn woke up with a mouth that was so dry his tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth and his head felt like it was going to cleave in two at any second. For the moment, his brain was blessedly silent. The constant roar of chaos and that single piercing scream had receded. He lay still with his eyes closed, knowing that if he opened them, the sunlight that lightened the blackness behind his eyelids would assault him in full force.

He lay that way for several minutes debating on whether he should look for more alcohol or go throw up when a sudden vision flashed behind his closed eyes. Lassie…Lassie with an arm across Shawn’s chest, talking to him in a low tone, the words soothing the panic Shawn felt.

It had to have been a dream. Lassie wouldn’t be caught dead in his apartment, nor would he ever touch Shawn on purpose, unless he was man-handling him. He certainly would never try to _comfort_ him. It was a nice thought though, and Shawn let himself live in it for several moments before ratcheting his eyes open to face the obnoxious sunlight.

For a moment he could see nothing but blurry white light. But after a few harsh rubs from the palm of his hand, the room around him began to focus. That’s when he saw him, seated on the coffee table, elbows resting on his knees, those crystal blue eyes watching him intently.

“Lassie?” he asked hoarsely, wondering if maybe he was still dreaming, or maybe drunk enough to be hallucinating.

Without fully thinking about it, he reached out, poking a finger into Carlton’s knee. Pretty solid for a hallucination, but he didn’t move, didn’t event attempt to swat Shawn’s hand away.

“Good morning.” Carlton said simply.

Feeling confused Shawn said, “You’re here? In my house?”

“People were getting worried about you.” Carlton said.

Shawn faintly remembered hearing Gus and his Dad banging on the door yelling for him to open up. He had seen numerous missed calls from both of them, and from Juliet before things got lost in his alcohol induced stupor. But nothing from Carlton. Yet it was Carlton, not Gus, or his Dad, or Juliet, that was sitting there watching him with such intensity. Something akin to butterflies fluttered across his stomach.

Tearing his eyes away from Carlton, Shawn realized his living room was almost sparkling.

“You cleaned my house.” He said dazedly.

“I had some time.” Carlton replied.

“But…why?”

Carlton was silent, those blue eyes studying Shawn intently, and his mouth pressed into the smallest of frowns. Shawn found in increasingly hard to breath under that gaze. And, that hint of a frown made him feel worse than the hangover. He was used to Carlton frowning at him. Most days he was doing something to illicit that reaction because it usually meant he was going to be man-handled shortly. He took the touches where, and however, he could. But this was different. Shawn couldn’t read this expression and with his skills at reading people, it left him very uneasy.

Giving in to the sickening throb of pain crushing his skull from the inside, he moaned and closed his eyes. He felt a hand on his forehead, long fingers wrapping around his head. The butterflies fluttered through his stomach.

“Let’s get you someplace more comfortable.” Carlton said, one hand gripping Shawn’s and pulling him upwards.

Shawn followed the upward pull, swaying as he gained his feet. He kept his eyes closed tight, willing himself to not throw up in front of Carlton.

“Easy now.” Carlton said steadying him.

Shawn felt an arm slip around his waist and he melted into that strong, lean body and the support it offered. Carlton began to lead him in the direction of the bedroom. Moments later, he was eased down to the bed. He forced his eyes open to see Carlton looking down at him with that same expression, that ever-so-slight frown as those eyes pierced into his own.

Ashamed on multiple levels now, an emotion Shawn rarely ever felt, he whispered, “I feel sick.”

Carlton disappeared momentarily and came back with a wastebasket. “Just rest.” He said, sitting the wastebasket down, “We’ll talk later.”

Shawn took those words down into sleep with him.

* * *

Carlton watched Shawn drift off again, looking pale and sick. His mind turned over the last few minutes. It had almost felt like Shawn had leaned into him as he had helped him to bed. But, of course, it was probably because of the hangover and the left-over alcohol. A small, quiet, voice in the back of his mind whispered, “What if it wasn’t the alcohol?”

Carlton shook the voice away. Of course, it was the alcohol. If Shawn hadn’t leaned on him, he probably would have fallen over.

Once again, he wanted to be angry with Shawn. He had caused his Dad and Gus a lot of worry. He was apparently trying to kill himself with alcohol. Shawn was a reckless person, no doubt about that, in every aspect of his life. But this was beyond anything Carlton would have ever guessed he was capable of. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t work up that anger, though. Shawn’s face as that shot shattered through the chaos played through his mind again; that stricken, shattered, helpless guilt.

Resisting the urge to stroke that horribly pale face, Carlton left the bedroom.


	5. Chapter Five

Shawn woke slowly. His brain was blessedly quiet and it felt as though the worse of the hangover was behind him. Although there was still a dull pain right behind his eyes, his stomach was no longer turning summersaults. For the moment, he lay still, sifting through the confused memories puzzling their way through his head.

He had brief flashes of coming to in the living room to find Carlton sitting on the coffee table and watching him. He though it must be a false memory, one created by the massive amount of alcohol and the fact it was Carlton, at least the thought of Carlton, that had kept him from leaving this town in the dust. His mind must have wanted it so badly that it had conjured up a false Carlton.

But other flashes ran through his head that made the idea of a hallucination questionable. A flash of Carlton helping him to the bedroom. A flash of Carlton getting a wastebasket for him. A flash of Carlton saying they would talk later, with that little frown furrowing his brow. He still thought it must be his mind playing tricks on him.

The gentleness with which Carlton had handled him was proof enough for that. He turned over on his side and his eyes came to a rest on the wastebasket. His thoughts stuttered to a halt. If his memories were just his mind playing tricks on him, how would that explain that innocuous little beige wastebasket?

Suddenly, Shawn became aware of the aroma filling his bedroom. Eggs, bacon, coffee…it simultaneously made his mouth water and his stomach waver. Who was cooking food?

Slowly, still feeling a little unsteady, Shawn sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The movement neither increased the pain behind his eyes, nor caused his stomach to seize, and so he carefully stood up. Giving himself a moment to be sure his legs were going to hold him, he kept one hand on the headboard and steadied himself.

He noticed as he stood there that the remnants of his broken lamp had been cleaned up and the pictures he had knocked off the wall were stacked on the dresser. More evidence that those flashes of memory weren’t hallucinations, or his brain tricking him. Carlton Lassiter was in his house, had attended to Shawn’s drunken self, and was now apparently making breakfast.

Deciding his legs were going to hold him, Shawn moved out of the bedroom. He paused, looking into the kitchen where he could see Carlton standing at the stove. His back was to Shawn and Shawn just stood watching him. The gentleness with which Carlton had handled him played through his mind and confusion followed. Of all the people in his life right now, Carlton was the last one he would have ever expected to have swooped in and saved him from drinking himself to death.

The scene played out in his head in brilliant clarity; the gentleness of his touch, the softness in his voice, that slight frown that cast a small cloud over those blue eyes, and that one sentence spoken so soft and, yet, hard at the same time: _We’ll talk later_.

Shawn felt an involuntary shiver race through him. He wasn’t sure what that talk was going to entail, but he bet he wasn’t going to like it much. The frown and the tone of those words conflicted so much that for a moment Shawn wondered if he had somehow found the end of Carlton’s patience and was about to be murdered.

And who could really blame Carlton? After what happened? After…

The scene raced across his brain, overwhelming every other thought in his head. In almost physically painful clarity, it played out; the chaos, the shot, the scream. That scream.

Shawn went to his knees.

* * *

Carlton turned, hearing noise, and saw Shawn on his knees, one fist knocking against his forehead. The sheer anguish on the younger man’s face sent his heart racing and he was immediately at his side, grabbing the fist and forcing it down.

“Shawn!” he said sharply, “What’s wrong? Look at me!” With his other hand, he cupped Shawn’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze, “What’s wrong?”

Tears were rolling down Shawn’s cheeks and he spoke through clenched teeth, grinding out each word, “It…won’t…stop.”

Carlton didn’t have to ask what wouldn’t stop. The warning voice in the back of his head screamed as Carlton wrapped his arms around Shawn and pulled him in tight. Tremors were going through Shawn, making him feel like a live wire in Carlton’s arms and it didn’t take much to squash that little voice. He needed to calm Shawn down and this was all he could think to do. He was just going to have to deal with the consequences later.

“It’s okay, Shawn.” Carlton said as Shawn gripped him even tighter. He rocked Shawn slightly, “Calm down. It’s over and it’s nobody’s fault.”

He felt Shawn shaking his head against his chest, “I should have seen it. I should have seen it and it’s never going to be over.”

“It will fade with time, Shawn.” Carlton said, choosing to ignore the part about blaming himself. He would get him through this crisis first and work on that later.

Shawn pulled away suddenly and Carlton felt a brief flash of anxiety, expecting Shawn to demand why on earth Carlton was hugging him. But Shawn only shook his head, his eyes, moist and red, found Carlton’s and his voice had an edge to it that Carlton had never heard before. “It will never fade. Don’t you understand? Nothing **EVER** fades for me.”

For a moment Carlton only looked at him puzzled. And then, suddenly, he hard Shawn’s Mom’s voice saying _I have sort of an eidetic tonal memory_. Suddenly everything fell into place.

“You have an eidetic memory.” Carlton said softly, almost to himself.

Shawn’s face suddenly shifted from anguish to realization, to outright panic. Carlton realized he was going to run only a fraction of a second before Shawn tried to bolt. If he hadn’t already had a hold of the younger man, Shawn might have gotten away. As it was, Carlton gripped him harder and brought him back down.

“Stop.” He said, his tone suddenly becoming harsh and commanding, the inner head detective momentarily taking over.

The effect was immediate. Shawn stopped. He deflated right before Carlton’s eyes. He plopped back against the wall and covered his face with hands that were visibly shaking.

Carlton watched him. He knew he should be furious at the simple truth behind Shawn’s “psychic” abilities, but he wasn’t. Right now, at this moment, all he could think of was what kind of hell it would be to not only not forget, but to see it as if it had just happened even years and years later.

Reaching forward, he pulled Shawn’s hands away from his face, forcing him to look him in the eyes. “Listen to me, Shawn.” He said, “I don’t know how but I’m going to help you through this. I promise.”

Shawn stared at him, eyes intent but exhausted, “Why? You don’t even like me.”

Carlton held his gaze and although the answer was right on the tip of his tongue, he still couldn’t bring himself to say it. He couldn’t put it out there for latter harassment. He seen understanding flash across Shawn’s face but before he could see the mocking reproach that he knew was sure to follow that understanding, the strident bray of the smoke alarm pulled both of their attentions to the kitchen where black smoke was roiling up from the frying pan.

“Shit.” Carlton exclaimed, getting to his feet and hurrying into the kitchen to move the frying pan off the burner.


	6. Chapter Six

Shawn watched Carlton handling the crisis in the kitchen. He thought about what he had just seen on Carlton’s face. If it had been anybody else, Shawn would have sworn there was something akin to love in that expression. But it wasn’t anybody else. It was Carlton Lassiter and Shawn knew there was no way he could have read it correctly. He was just exhausted and emotionally wrung out. And, on top of that, he had just told his biggest secret. It had been a culmination of all that and maybe some subconscious hopefulness.

But Carlton had definitely not acted as Shawn had thought he would upon finding out the truth about Shawn; upon finding out he had been right all these years. Shawn figured Carlton would have placed an immediate call to the chief to give her the news.

_Maybe the only reason he hadn’t is because he tried to burn my kitchen down first._

Pondering this, Shawn watched Carlton. The smoke alarm had been silenced and Carlton was now scraping the blackened food into the trash. His face was briefly visible to Shawn and Shawn noticed that slight frown was back, drawing the corners of his mouth down slightly and causing a line to crease across his forehead.

When Carlton turned back to the stove, Shawn debated on making a break for the door. He might be able to make it before Carlton noticed and he’d have a head start before the chief had everyone out looking for him. He had no desire to go spend time behind bars with people he had helped put there.

But something kept him where he was. He had to find out why Carlton was here. Why it was Carlton that had shown up in his house and not anyone else in his life. Because something was nagging at him. He knew for a fact he had locked his door when he had come back from the liquor store. That had been enough to keep Gus out, and even his Dad. But not Carlton. Shawn had to know why.

Because he felt too drained to even get to his feet, Shawn sat where he was and scanned back, re-examining all his moments of interactions with the head detective. Had he missed something? Had Carlton been able to jam Shawn’s normally impeccable radar that read people within minutes of meeting them? His radar had never let him down before so there must be something he had missed.

Carlton had, over the course of their time working together, warmed up just a little bit from the stone-cold head detective Shawn had met in that interrogation room. Not much, but a little. At least towards Shawn.

Shawn felt his stomach give a small lurch.

Carlton and his Dad were fishing buddies now, and even though Carlton had admitted that his Dad could suck the fun out of anything, they still went out occasionally. Carlton treated Gus with a measure of respect, rarely raising his voice to him, and their rapport actually bordered on friendship. Juliet, well Juliet was his partner and his complete faith and trust in her was only to be expected. But with Shawn…with him things had just not changed that much.

Was it possible that Carlton had been intentionally keeping Shawn at a distance for reasons other than Shawn intentionally poking and prodding him? And was it possible that in the midst of all that poking and prodding Shawn had missed the very thing he had been looking for?

For a brief moment, Shawn debated on doing something as impulsive as anything he had ever done, but for the first time in his life, he felt too exhausted to do it. And, besides, if he actually walked out there and laid one on Carlton and got nothing but Carlton’s knuckles smashing his face, he didn’t think he could take it.

Instead, he got up and walked into the kitchen where Carlton was scrubbing the stovetop.

“Carlton?” he asked, intentionally using the detective’s real name and reaching out to touch Carlton’s shoulder.

He felt Carlton’s body stiffen under his fingers and then something else passed through, something that almost looked like resignation as Carlton turned to face him. For several moments they simply looked at each other silently. Shawn couldn’t for the life of him get a read on the head detective. Finally, he said quietly, “Why are you here?”

From the look on Carlton’s face, the true meaning of the question wasn’t lost to him. And suddenly, Shawn realized Carlton was in as much emotional turmoil as he himself was, albeit for completely different reasons.

Shawn wanted nothing more than to kiss Carlton at that moment, to wrap his arms around that lanky frame and hold it until neither one of them cared about anything else in the world. He didn’t though. He had a strong suspicion that any wrong move on his part right now would send Carlton running and Shawn needed him right now more than he had ever needed anything or anyone else in his entire life.

Instead, he reached up and laid his hand gently against Carlton’s cheek, putting everything he felt into that single touch. “I’m glad you are.”

Carlton’s eyes fluttered shut briefly and then opened, connecting solidly with Shawn’s. He reached up and wrapped his hand around Shawn’s. The touch was hot and dry, soft and gentle. The connection was there. Shawn felt it. But Carlton suddenly moved Shawn’s hand away and down, turning back to the stove.

Sighing, Shawn turned and left the kitchen, sitting down heavily on the couch.

* * *

Carlton finished cleaning the stove, his heart thudding and his mind swirling. He could still feel the phantom touch of Shawn’s hand on his cheek. There was no way for him to explain away that touch, no matter how hard he tried. He needed to go in and talk to Shawn, to just get everything out in the open, but his sense of self-preservation stopped him.

Sighing, Carlton turned away from the stove. He could see the back of Shawn’s head from here and his gaze lingered as his heart and mind struggled against each other. As it stood now, he had the advantage over Shawn. If he admitted his feelings and it blew up in his face, he could be relatively sure Shawn wouldn’t use it against him because Carlton could turn around and blow Shawn right out of the water.

He closed his eyes and wondered at what point he had put up so many walls and defenses that he couldn’t contemplate expressing feelings without considering how much he could hurt the other person back. When had he convinced himself that anybody he got close to would deliberately hurt him?

Feeling the tremble in his hands, he went and sat down on the coffee table facing Shawn. “I think we need to talk.”


	7. Chapter Seven

Shawn looked up at Carlton’s words. Even through his exhaustion he could see the fear on Carlton’s face. He could feel that fear radiating off the head detective in dark waves. In that moment, Shawn felt an overwhelming need to protect Carlton. It wasn’t something he felt very often. In fact, he could only remember a few times in his life. He had no idea what he needed to protect Carlton from, but it was there and it was strong.

He said nothing as he met Carlton’s eyes, understanding on a deeper level, one that he didn’t visit very often, that Carlton needed to find his own way to this conversation. It was hard. Words were how he dealt with situations, especially the serious ones. The more serious, the more words came out, whether they made sense or not, and they were trying to come out now, to fill the space between him and Carlton with non-sensical subterfuge. But he forced them back and waited.

Taking a deep breath and clenching his hands together so tight that his knuckles turned white, Carlton spoke. His voice was low and even, a total contradiction to that fear Shawn sensed in him, “I’m here because I care about you…a lot and…you mean more to me than I’ve been willing to admit.”

Shawn realized he had been holding his breath. He released it, feeling that flutter ripple through his stomach again. He leaned forward and lay a hand over Carlton’s, feeling the tremble. For a moment he thought Carlton was going to pull away, but then he only sat there, staring at Shawn’s hand.

“My head tells me that I need to stay distanced.” Carlton continued. “That I can’t trust you and you’ll just make me look like a fool.”

“What does your heart say?” Shawn asked gently, deeply hurt by his words.

Carlton looked up, meeting Shawn’s eyes. He struggled to speak for a moment and then whispered, “Please don’t hurt me.”

For a moment Shawn felt his breath piling up in his lungs as he struggled to breathe. The realness of what was happening washed over him with a suddenness that threatened to drown him. Years of flirting and pushing buttons and using his “psychic episodes” as an excuse just to put his hands on Carlton had culminated at the most unexpected point imaginable and for the briefest of moments Shawn felt an almost crippling fear. Until now it had only been about the chase. He had never considered that Carlton was anything less that the stoic, divorced, straight man he appeared to be, angry and bitter, but never scared.

The fear that Shawn had glimpsed in the head detective’s eyes as he whispered those words showed him exactly how much Carlton was risking on him and he was suddenly sure that it was a mistake. He was incapable of having any relationship that required any kind of work. His track record spoke volumes on how misplaced Carlton’s sudden trust in his was. The only thing he had ever been good at was screwing things up…Always just screwing things up. Always (blue earbuds) screwing (iPod flashing in the sun) things (the shot) up (the scream)…

“Shawn!”

Carlton’s voice, harsh and commanding, overlaid that scream and Shawn focused everything he had on that voice. He felt Carlton’s long fingers wrap around his wrist, pulling him closer and forcing him to meet those blue eyes. They had instantly changed from that soft pleading to the sharpened diamonds Shawn was used to.

Shawn reached with his free hand, finding Carlton’s free hand and gripped hard, focusing with everything he had on the sight and touch of Carlton Lassiter. He listened as Carlton commanded him to stay in the present, to look at him and stay with him. And with that guide he was able to bring himself back.

“Are you okay?” Carlton asked finally, studying him intently.

Shawn nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He could feel tears running down his cheek and wiped them away feeling angry and helpless and stupid. After several moments of silence and trying to force his mind in a different direction Shawn looked up at Carlton and said, “I don’t understand.”

Carlton looked confused, “Understand what?”

“I can get a read on people in minutes. People very rarely surprise me. But you did. I’ve spent the last few years thinking you were the original straight man. Totally unattainable. How did you, of all people, fool me?”

Carlton shrugged and looked down at his hands. “It’s generally not a good idea for cops to announce their sexual preferences.”

“Maybe,” Shawn said, “But that’s not it. I can tell you the names of three cops that are gay and I bet they’d surprise you.”

Carlton looked up and Shawn could tell just the statement surprised him.

“Peters, Lehman, and Foster.” Shawn said before Carlton could even ask.

“How do you know?” Carlton questioned.

Shawn couldn’t help himself. He started to place his fingers to his head but stopped with a grin at the warning look from Carlton. It helped to put a little of their old roles in this new relationship that seemed to be developing between them.

“I told you, Lassie. I can get a read on people within minutes. You have my Dad to thank for that.”

Carlton looked like he was going to say something, but then he closed his mouth.

“So, how did you do it?” Shawn asked again.

“I don’t know.” Carlton said, “Maybe because I’ve hid it from everyone for so long, including myself. I never let my family know growing up and when I started my career in law enforcement I knew if I was going to succeed, I couldn’t give into it. So, I didn’t.” he paused, his gaze dropping to his hands again, “I think that’s why Victoria’s father had such as issue with me. I think he suspected it on some level. I married her because that’s what I was supposed to do. You know, I cared about her an awful lot, but I just didn’t love her. It wasn’t fair to her but she held on as long as she could.”

Shawn chuckled causing Carlton to look up sharply. Shaking his head, Shawn said, “I’m sure my Dad wishes I had that type of restraint.”

“Well you must have some sort of restraint.” Carlton said, “I’ve never seen you with anything other than women.”

Shawn waved a hand, “That’s only because I’ve never met any guys since coming home that I really liked.” He paused, “Except you.”

Carlton looked doubtful.

“Oh, come on, Lassie. You didn’t think all of those theatrics were just an irritation ploy, did you? I mean, sometimes they were because you made it so easy, but come on. You never wondered why it was always you? Never Buzz, or Gus, or Jules?”

“Not really. It just kind of seemed like your thing.”

“Fair enough.” Shawn said with a shrug.

Silence settled between them for several moments before Carlton asked, “So what do we do now?”

Shawn took a deep breath and considered the question for several moments, his mind tripping over itself as thoughts fought against each other. He tried to sort them out and steer them away from anything that would shove him down into the rabbit-hole of memories again. Finally, he said, “I think that’s a decision you have to make, Carlton. You’ve got more than me to lose. But if you wanted to, you know, try being my boyfriend, I wouldn’t tell anyone if you didn’t want me to.”

That kind of make you sound like a dirty little secret.” Carlton said, “That’s not every fair to you.”

Shawn considered that but then shrugged, “Secret maybe. Dirty? Only if you want.” He grinned mischievously.

A grin seemed to tug at the corner of Carlton’s mouth before he said, “I’m going to try and make that breakfast again.”

Shawn nodded as Carlton stood up and headed back into the kitchen. He was trembling. Between the exhaustion and this idea of new possibilities with Carlton, he was beginning to overload. He didn’t like having to think this much. He didn’t like the adultness of it. He had said all along that he was never going to grow up, but if he really wanted a shot at Carlton, he was going to have to; at least in the area of relationships. As for the rest of it, well, being responsible for the death of a little kid kind of drove adult down on your head.

His hands closed into a fist as that phantom scream drilled into him. He fought to stay on top, to not have it consume him. He couldn’t have Carlton sitting at his side 24/7 to bring him out of it. But the memories, the scream, started winning. The scene was rolling out again and there was no alcohol to make it the least bit fuzzy.

He needed a drink. He needed to dilute the clarity.

Standing up, barely keeping a hold of himself, Shawn went into the kitchen were Carlton had started frying bacon again. Ignoring Carlton’s look of concern when he entered, Shawn began yanking open cupboards, searching for any alcohol he hadn’t already drank.

“Shawn, stop.” Carlton said, grabbing ahold of his arm.

Shawn tried to jerk away, breath coming in hitching little sobs as his hold on the here and now became less and less. But Carlton moved in close, pinning him against the refrigerator. Shawn struggled against him desperate to block the images in his head.

“Look at me.” Carlton demanded, and there was no question of not answering.

Shawn felt his gaze slide up and lock onto Carlton’s breathtakingly beautiful eyes. They were bright with concern, so unlike the dark, rage blue they had been leading up to that one shot, that one scream.

“We’re here now.” Carlton said, his tone gentler, “Stay with me here.”

Shawn felt his precarious hold on the present begin to strengthen again. He listened to his senses: The smell of Carlton’s aftershave, Wild Country, the sound of Carlton’s breathing, slightly faster than normal, and those eyes, the color of the deep ocean on a clear day.

Slowly, Shawn’s hands uncurled from the fists they had balled up into and he realized he had grabbed ahold of Carlton’s shirt at some point. His body started to relax and he felt Carlton begin to take a step back. But Shawn needed to feel him and pulled him back towards him, feeling clingy and needy, and miserably hating himself.

Carlton’s arms circled around him and for several long minutes he just existed in the moment, filling up his senses and memories of the touch, smell, and feel that was Carlton Lassiter. Carlton rested his chin on top of Shawn’s head, apparently willing to hold him as long as Shawn wanted.

“I’m sorry, Lassie.” Shawn said finally, pulling back and swiping at the tears in his eyes.

“it’s okay.” Carlton said, stepping back.

Shawn let Carlton lead him to the table and sat down.

“Just sit tight. Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”

Shawn nodded and watched Carlton walk back into the kitchen. He watched the head detective preparing breakfast and forced himself to think of nothing but how he had felt with Carlton’s body pressed against him, how safe he had felt wrapped in the circle of Carlton’s arms. Then the image of Carlton looking at him more vulnerable and open than Shawn had ever seen him and whispering that one plea _Please don’t hurt me_ flashed through his mind.

He promised himself then and there that he was going to do everything he could to make this work. He’d waited so long, even though he never thought he had a chance, he had waited. A small smile came to him as he realized his feelings for Carlton, even though he though they were unrequited, had been the longest relationship he’d ever been in.

About ten minutes later, Carlton came to the table carrying two plates. He set one down in front of Shawn and then sat down himself with the other. As Shawn began to eat, realizing just how hungry he was, he noticed Carlton staring at him, a question wavering on those chiseled Irish features.

“What?” he asked.

Carlton seemed to toss whatever it was around, looking for the best way to ask it. Shawn, for once in his life, didn’t have the strength to crack a joke to fill in the silence and so he simply sat and waited.

“So…” Carlton started, paused, and then forged ahead, “This memory thing, how have you handled bad things in the past?”

Shawn shrugged, “Mom taught me some tricks to help. Like connecting the incident with something else or taking something else from whatever it was to focus on in the memory.”

“Like?” Carlton prodded, sounding genuinely interested.

“Well, like in kindergarten, a bully from the third grade punched me and took my milk money. Mom taught me I could focus on the fact that Sarah Chaney was hanging upside down on the monkey bars and she was wearing a dress. She had on dandelion yellow underwear with a red rose on the left hip.” Shawn grinned, living the memory for a moment.

Carlton chuckled.

Shawn’s grin faded, “There wasn’t anything else to focus on with the shooting. Chaos, yelling, blood…death.”

“Shawn.” Carlton’s voice was firm, anchoring him.

Shawn met his eyes, “Just once I’d like to be able to forget.”

Carlton reached across the table to give him a reassuring squeeze, “Eat some breakfast.”

They ate in companionable silence, Shawn watching Carlton unobtrusively. He found by cataloguing every motion Carlton made as he ate his breakfast and drank his sugar coffee that the overbearing thoughts were relegated to the back corner and it was blessedly quiet.

“These eggs are awesome.” Shawn said finally after forking the last bite into his mouth. “I’ve never quite tasted that flavor.”

Carlton shrugged, “Just a little seasoned salt.”

“Huh.” Shawn said, “It’s like the Cadsbury Easter Bunny of eggs.”

Carlton glanced at him, frowning slightly, “What?”

Shawn chuckled and flapped a hand. “Nothing.”

Carlton finished his plate and then took his and Shawn’s back to the sink. Shawn watched him rinse them off and set them in the sink before returning to the table.

“You know,” he said, folding his arms on the table, “You should probably let your Dad and Gus know that you’re okay. They were pretty worried about you.”

Shawn frowned, “I don’t really feel like talking to my Dad right now. He’d probably just lecture me about not seeing all the hats.”

“Hats?”

Shawn flapped his hand again, “Just some stupid thing he used to make me do to sharpen my skills.” He fingered air quotes around the ‘sharpen my skills’.

“What about Gus?”

Shawn sighed. He should call Gus. Gus had always been there for him, but he wasn’t sure he could get through a conversation that was sure to have a bunch of questions on topics he wasn’t ready to talk about yet. He almost asked Carlton to call but then realized Carlton wasn’t likely going to want to explain why he was at Shawn’s, or how he got in when no one else did.

“I’ll call Gus.” He said.

Carlton studied him intently for a minute before saying, “After that you should rest. You look like someone gave you two black eyes.”

Shawn imagined what it would be like to try and sleep, a place where his mind would have free reign with no alcohol to dampen it and shivered, “Nah. All good on sleep, Lassie.”

Before Carlton could respond, Shawn stood up and walked into the living room to find his phone.


	8. Chapter Eight

Over the next couple of days, Carlton stayed with Shawn. The moments that Shawn seemed to get pulled back in time to that instant where the boy had been shot did come slightly less frequently, but not much. Each time Carlton was able to bring him back, but he was beginning to worry that Shawn needed something he wasn’t going to be able to give.

“Maybe your Mom could help.” Carlton suggested after one such episode.

“No.” Shawn said flatly. “I’m not running to my Mom on this.”

“But she might be able to…”

“No.” Shawn repeated, cutting Carlton off.

Carlton had never heard such a finality in Shawn’s tone before and he opted not to pursue the subject. Instead, he went and sat down on the couch. He had gotten very little sleep the past few days. Shawn wasn’t sleeping hardly at all and Carlton was afraid to leave him unattended. Shawn had sworn he wouldn’t try to run or anything, but Carlton didn’t trust him to not do something stupid in the midst of one of his episodes.

After sitting down, it didn’t take long before he began nodding off. He fought it at first, but in the end, sleep won.

A hand on his cheek woke him with a start and he half came up off the couch, reaching for the gun that he wasn’t carrying.

“Whoa,” he heard Shawn’s voice, “Hey, calm down there, Lassiebear.”

Carlton looked around to see Shawn standing in front of him looking a little startled. He dropped back to the couch, feeling the adrenaline as it started to ebb, leaving him trembling in its wake.

“Sorry.” He said, almost feeling embarrassed. He wasn’t used to being woke up by anything other than his alarm clock.

“No, hey it’s all good.” Shawn said, “I should know better than to sneak up on the Lassinator.”

Carlton grinned in spite of himself, “What’s up, Shawn?”

He had noticed awhile back that he had ceased using the moniker Spencer, and Shawn seemed to like it. Although Lassie still seemed to be Shawn’s preferred name for Carlton. And to be honest about it, Carlton kind of liked it.

“I wanted to show you something.” Shawn said offering his hand.

Carlton grabbed it, allowing Shawn to help him to his feet, “What is it?”

“This way.” Shawn said, heading toward the bedroom. “You’ll see.”

Carlton followed, looking around the bedroom as they entered, “What?”

Shawn turned to face him and there was something about the look in those hazel eyes that caused Carlton’s stomach to flutter.

“This.” Shawn said, taking a step towards him and leaning in to press his lips to Carlton’s

Carlton stiffened briefly in surprise but then felt himself responding to the gentleness of the kiss. He had never kissed another man before, despite his sexual preferences, and he realized suddenly what he never felt when kissing Victoria. Shawn’s lips were soft and warm against his and when Shawn reached up to cup the back of his head, Carlton moaned quietly.

Shawn’s tongue swiped across his lips, seeking entry and Carlton found himself letting his tongue explore Shawn’s. He was only vaguely aware that Shawn’s other hand had come up and was popping the buttons open on his shirt.

As much as Carlton wanted this, fear chased through him. Shawn seemed to sense it and he whispered, “Have you ever let yourself be with any man, Lassie?”

Carlton shook his head slightly, the warm puff from Shawn’s words dancing across his skin.

“Do you trust me?” Shawn whispered again.

Carlton gazed into those beautiful hazel eyes, now darkened with lust and need and he could only nod, unable to find his voice to speak.

Shawn’s lips returned to his and Carlton met them almost greedily. He was so focused on the sensations stemming from Shawn’s tender kisses that he didn’t realize Shawn had managed to completely unbutton his shirt until he felt fingers exploring the hair on his chest.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Lassie.” Shawn whispered, trailing kisses down to his neck. “I’ve wanted you for so, so long.”

Shawn nuzzled into the hollow of Carlton’s shoulder and Carlton closed his eyes feeling light headed. Shawn’s words made his breath catch in his throat. He’d been called a lot of things in his life, but sexy had never been one of them…ever.

Experimentally, Carlton reached up to run his hand through Shawn’s hair. He felt Shawn gently nibble along his neck and up to his ear.

“That’s it.” Shawn whispered again, suckling his ear lobe, “Show me how much you’ve wanted me.”

Encouraged, Carlton brought his other hand up, slipping it underneath Shawn’s shirt while at the same time tangling his fingers in Shawn’s hair and pulling his head back so that the younger man’s throat was exposed. Leaning forward, he took that throat, kissing and sucking in equal measures.

“Mm.” He felt the vibration under his lips.

He realized that Shawn had been walking him backwards only when he felt the bed come in contact with the back of his knees. At about the same time, he felt Shawn palm across his already rock-hard member. The sensation caused his legs to buckle and he sat down suddenly. Shawn slipped off Carlton’s shirt and pushed him backwards, straddling him and finding his lips again. Almost totally focused on the sensation those incredible lips were causing, he barely noticed Shawn had gotten his pants open until he felt fingers wrapping around him and running up and down his length slowly but firmly.

Carlton gasped as the pleasure raced through him like an electric current.

“I’m going to make you feel so good, Lassie.” Shawn murmured against him.

Almost of their own volition, Carlton’s hips moved back and forth against the friction of Shawn’s hand. He realized almost too late that he was getting ready to orgasm, but Shawn seemed to read him easily and pulled his hand away.

“No, no, Lassie.” He cooed, nuzzling Carlton’s neck again, “I’ve got so much more for you to experience tonight.”

As Carlton lay breathing rapidly and trembling, Shawn stood up and took his clothes off. Those hazel eyes never left Carlton’s and Carlton found he couldn’t look away, lost in those lust filled eyes until Shawn said, “Look at what you do to me, Lassie.”

Carlton drug his eyes downward to see Shawn’s member standing at full attention. For a moment, Carlton felt doubtful, but seeming to read his mind again, Shawn said, “It’s you, Lassie. It’s everything about you from those gorgeous blue eyes, to that ruggedly handsome Irish jawline, to that hard, lean body of yours.”

Shawn worked Carlton’s pants off and let them fall to the floor. His underwear followed and then Shawn was crawling back over to straddle him again. His length rubbed against Carlton’s and Carlton gasped again. Tentatively he reached down to take Shawn in his hand, curious as to what it actually felt like to hold another man’s cock.

It was Shawn’s turn to gasp and Carlton felt a powerful twitch in his hand. “Fuck, Lassie that feels so good.”

Carlton felt a blush creep over him at all of Shawn’s praise. He didn’t have a lot of experience with sex and Victoria had made a couple shots at him that had convinced him he was pretty much no good at it. So, even with Shawn’s encouragement, he was doubtful. But he knew one thing for certain. He had never felt this way with anyone else, ever. He knew another thing for certain too. Shawn was making it very hard to have any rational thought processes as he and his skillful lips worked over Carlton’s skin in a peppering of butterfly kisses.

“Do you want to taste it?” Shawn asked, pulling away to look Carlton in the eye.

Carlton hesitated but then nodded. Shawn moved up on the bed, bringing his cock up to Carlton’s mouth. He didn’t force himself in, instead letting Carlton take his time, first tentatively licking the very tip and then slowly slipping it into his mouth.

“Fuck, Lassie.” Shawn breathed out as his body tensed.

His apparent pleasure encouraged Carlton to take in more and explore with his tongue. He could smell the musky scent that Shawn emanated and tasted the slightly salty pre-come that was oozing out. Between the taste, touch, and smell, his head spun in a here-to-fore forbidden pleasure.

“Stop.” Shawn gasped suddenly, pulling away, “Stop, stop.” He took a couple steadying breaths and smiled at Carlton, allaying any sudden fears he had that he had done something wrong, “I don’t want to wind up blowing too early myself.”

After a moment, Shawn reached above them to pull a small bottle of lube out from under a pillow. Deftly, he opened the top and dribbled some lube on his fingers. Then he lowered his head, taking Carlton in his mouth. It was all Carlton could do to not thrust upwards into that warm wetness.

As Shawn’s head slowly bobbed and his tongue did things Carlton had never dreamed possible, he suddenly felt a finger very gently easing into him. It was slightly uncomfortable at first, but as it moved, he felt himself loosening up. And then it did something that caused him to half cry out in pleasure. He didn’t know what it had been, but he knew he wanted it again.

He felt Shawn’s chuckle vibrate around him and the younger man raised his head up, releasing him. “You like that, Lassie?”

Before Carlton could answer, Shawn did it again. Carlton’s back arched and he fisted a handful of bed cover. He barely noticed when Shawn added another finger. Nor did he notice that he was meeting every upward thrust with a downward one.

When Shawn pulled out, Carlton felt an almost crippling sense of loss. He looked at him, questioningly, but realized what was going on when he saw Shawn squirt a much larger dollop of lube on his own cock. After slicking it up, he used the excess to re-lube Carlton.

“Do you still trust me?” he asked and, suddenly, Carlton was sure that if he said no, Shawn would stop immediately regardless of the fact that he looked hard enough for it to be painful.

Carlton nodded and Shawn smiled at him, almost bright enough to hide the dark rings he was still sporting under his eyes. Shawn moved to position himself between Carlton’s legs. He put a pillow under Carlton’s hips and then Carlton felt the head of his cock slowly trying to push in.

Despite having been relaxed a little from the fingers, there was still a momentary bite of pain when the head made its way inside. Carlton bit his lip and focused on the ecstasy that he saw on Shawn’s face.

Carlton sensed that Shawn wanted to surge forward and bury himself inside, but he held back and the strain of it was obvious by the trembling in his thighs and stomach. But finally, he was all the way in. Carlton could feel him so deep inside. The connection he suddenly felt with Shawn caused the pleasure to once again override the pain. He wanted to feel Shawn moving inside of him, to see Shawn’s pleasure. His body seemed to be nothing but raw nerve endings that were firing shockwaves of pleasure instead of pain. He had time to briefly wonder if this was how making love was supposed to feel when Shawn pulled back ever so slightly before moving forward again.

“Yes, Shawn.” He breathed, hips moving upward to get Shawn in as far as humanly possible.

His words seemed to encourage Shawn who pulled back further before moving forward again. Carlton fisted the covers again, wanting to close his eyes and live in this hedonistic connection he had never before experienced, but at the same time wanting to see Shawn’s face, see the lust dilated pupils and the pleasure that seemed to mirror his own.

Shawn began speeding up slowly and Carlton noted, even in the haze of discovering what lovemaking was supposed to feel like, how closely Shawn was monitoring his reaction. That fact alone made Carlton’s heart swell to near bursting. He reached up to grip Shawn’s hips, encouraging harder and deeper thrusts. And then Shawn shifted ever so slightly and Carlton was sure the top of his head was going to come off. Surely his body wasn’t designed to handle this much sheer ecstasy. Unable to stop himself but not nearly as self-conscious as he would have thought, a moaning cry escaped him.

Shawn began to hit that special spot with each thrust. Carlton was only faintly aware of the change in Shawn’s breathing pattern, shallow and fast.

“Come on, Lassie.” He urged, his voice trembling slightly, “Cum for me.”

It was as if those words had super powers. Carlton was only aware it was going to happen a fraction of a second before the orgasm hit and for the first time in his life, Carlton cried out as the wave crashed into him like a tsunami, briefly whiting the world out around him.

“God, Lassie.” Shawn gritted out between clenched teeth and then was off on his own orgasm, and, again, for the first time in his life a second orgasm hit screaming through his body like a runaway train.

There was a litany of words and praises to Carlton as Shawn tried to keep his rhythm, but he stuttered, finally stopping buried as far in as he could get. Carlton felt each pulse of Shawn’s cock as he came, and each pulse seemed to cause aftershocks to Carlton’s own. Finally, Shawn collapsed next to Carlton breathing hard.

Carlton turned his head to look at Shawn, seeing the fine beads of sweat along his brow and those hazel eyes, half-lidded in post-orgasmic bliss.

“Holy mother of a banana daiquiri.” Shawn murmured softly, bringing a hand up to gently run his thumb along Carlton’s cheek, “That was definitely worth waiting years for.”

Carlton smiled, feeling himself blush.

Shawn’s eyes slowly finished closing and his thumb stilled on Carlton’s cheek. Carlton waited until his breathing had evened out into sleep before slipping out of the bed to go wash up.

* * *

Later, Carlton lay next to Shawn, studying him in the darkness. A strip of light from the lamp post outside the window cut a slice of pale-yellow light across the younger man’s face. For the first time since Carlton had walked in to find him passed out on the couch, he looked at peace. Carlton had played the memory of their love making over in his mind several times. He had never had anyone make him feel special like Shawn had and it somehow surprised him. Both because Shawn had sounded so honestly genuine and because he had somehow not pictured Shawn as a considerate person when it came to sex. In listening to the braggarts of the world who blew through woman like Shawn tended to do, he was under the impression it was just a game of take for them.

Carlton pondered the gargantuan changes that had occurred in his life over the last few days. He had thought he had been making a mistake coming here, but he was now loathed to consider where he would be right now if he had not, where Shawn would be. He didn’t think it out of the realm of possibility Shawn might even be dead.

Shawn rolled over in his sleep, towards Carlton, and wrapped an arm around him. Carlton smiled to himself. He wanted to reach out and touch him but he didn’t. He didn’t want to interrupt his much-needed sleep.

He wondered, not for the first time, how he was supposed to help Shawn. He considered reaching out to Shawn’s Mom on his own, but with the way Shawn had responded when Carlton had suggested talking to her, he was afraid it would cause issues in their budding relationship. He wasn’t willing to risk that.

He thought about what Shawn had said about being taught to find something else that had been happening at the same time as something bad. Maybe he could walk through the memory of the shooting with him and help him find something else. It would not be easy. And, considering Carlton didn’t know what the hell he was doing, it could even be potentially dangerous. He didn’t know. The only thing he did know was he had to help him get through this crisis somehow.

Sighing, feeling content and satiated for the moment, Carlton closed his eyes and drifted off.

* * *

Carlton woke up with an overwhelming call of nature. He sat up carefully, not wanting to wake Shawn. The lump under the covers had moved over more to the other side of the bed so he was able to get up without too much of a disturbance. It was on his way back to bed that he realized the lump under the covers wasn’t Shawn. It was just a line of pillows situated to look like a body.

He stopped in his tracks, feeling his stomach turn to ice, but then he heard the faint sound of the television drifting in from the living room. Steadying himself, he walked out to find Shawn sitting on the couch watching an old re-run of _Knight Rider_. Shawn’s gaze on the television was fixed, much too intent for idle watching. Carlton sat down next to him wordlessly.

“I tell you, that is **the** car that everyone should have.” Shawn said, and his tone didn’t match the expression on his face in the slightest, “Forget those Tesla smart cars. K.I.T.T. could turn those little suckers into scrap metal in a heartbeat.”

Carlton knew if Gus had been sitting there, he and Shawn could have riffed off that statement for an hour. But he wasn’t Gus and he really didn’t understand their private language.

“It was an awesome car.” He agreed instead, and then added the most ridiculous thing he could think of, “Like pineapples tied up in a bow on a lost episode of _Gilligan’s Island_.”

Shawn laughed and when he looked at Carlton some of the tension was gone, “Did you really just say that, Lassie?”

Carlton shrugged, feeling a blush creep over his cheeks. He was glad the room was mostly dark.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Shawn asked, his gaze going back to the television.

“No.” Carlton replied, “I had to go to the bathroom.” He hesitated before saying, “Why don’t you come back to bed?”

“Na, I’m good.” Shawn replied, “It’s a marathon. Don’t wanna miss any of that.”

Carlton was silent a moment. He turned so he was comfortably facing Shawn and gently took his hand, “How can I help you, Shawn?”

Shawn’s shoulders sagged slightly and he didn’t look at Carlton right away. When he did, Carlton could see tears shimmering in his eyes.

“I don’t know.” He said finally, “This is so much more than I’ve ever had to deal with. It’s like all the tricks Mom taught me aren’t enough this time.” He sniffed and glanced up at the ceiling, “And as if seeing it over and over when I’m awake isn’t bad enough, I go to sleep and wind up watching that fucking lunatic shoot Jules, or Gus, or you.”

“Listen,” Carlton said, trying to sound logical, “Your Mom has helped cops for a long time and she knows you and your unique situation better than anybody else. There’s no shame in asking her for help, Shawn.”

Shawn looked at him silently for a long time and Carlton took that as a good sign. He hadn’t even considered it the first time it was mentioned.

“Okay, look,” he said finally, “Let me try and work though this a few more days. If I can’t, I’ll call her.” He paused, “Just…don’t leave me, Lassie.”

Carlton cupped Shawn’s face in his hand, “Never.”

Shawn held Carlton’s gaze for several moments before turning back to the television. Carlton shifted position and began watching the show as well, silently holding Shawn’s hand.


	9. Chapter Nine

Carlton woke up to bright sunshine and no Shawn. The television was turned off and the house was silent save for the distant sound of running water in the shower. Carlton massaged his stiff neck and stood up, stretching. He was just walking into the kitchen when his cell phone went off, alerting him to a new text message. Pulling it out of his pocket he glanced at the screen expecting it to be from Juliette or the Chief. He had cashed in two weeks of vacation without telling the Chief why. He had told Juliette because she was his partner and partners didn’t keep things from each other. He had sworn her to secrecy, however, and told her to get ahold of him if they needed him for any reason.

To his astonishment, the text was from Gus. _I need to talk to u. Urgent._

Carlton texted back _I’m really busy. Call O’Hara_.

Seconds later, his phone sounded again. _Know you’re with Shawn. Need to talk. Can u get away?_

Carlton felt briefly shocked that Gus knew where he was. His initial reaction was to deny it, but he realized Shawn had surely talked to him about things. Expecting Shawn to keep something from Gus was like expecting him to keep something from Juliette.

_Maybe for a few._

_Meet me at the Psych office._

_Ok_

Carlton pocketed the phone and went into the bedroom. He opened the bathroom door slightly. Steam hung low and adhered to the mirror over the sink.

“Hey, Shawn?” he called

“Hey, Lassiebear.” Shawn responded, “I’ll be out in a few.”

“I’m going to run to the store.” Carlton felt horrible for lying, but somehow sensed he needed to, “Will you be okay for a few minutes?”

“Yeah, fine.” Shawn said, “Just gonna suds the melon and then make some breakfast.”

“Okay. I’ll just be a phone call away.”

“I’ll be fine, Lass.” Shawn said, his tone seemed to be relaxed enough.

“Okay.”

Carlton shut the door and left the house. He headed toward the Psych office feeling his stomach knotting nauseatingly as he drove. Apparently, whatever Gus had to say he didn’t want to say in front of Shawn, which was odd. As far as Carlton knew, those two had never been able to keep secrets from each other. Gus had tried once, when he was dating that weird girl that liked doing dangerous sports and failed miserably.

By the time he was pulling up in front of the office and parking next to the blueberry his mind had concocted a hundred different scenarios explaining why Gus wanted to talk to him away from Shawn. They started with Gus demanding to know how he could prey on Shawn when he was so emotional (the fact that Shawn had instigated the sex part notwithstanding), and ending with Gus threatening to tell everyone and their brother what was going on and get him fired.

Steeling himself for whatever was about to happen, Carlton got out of the car and went into the office. He found Gus sitting at his desk with his laptop open but not doing anything except staring into space. Carlton’s first read of Gus’ expression was that Shawn’s childhood friend was extremely worried, not hell bent on revenge.

“Guster.” Carlton said by way of greeting.

Gus stood up, seemed to reconsider and sat back down. Then stood up again, “Lassiter.” He greeted back.

“You said it was urgent that you talk to me?” Carlton ventured.

“Yeah, I…well I need to talk to you about Shawn.”

Carlton watched Gus look around the office, his eyes stopping to rest on everything except Carlton. Carlton nodded slowly, positive that if Gus was this uncomfortable, the conversation wasn’t going to be too pleasant.

“What about him?”

Gus took a deep breath and seemed to steel himself much the same way Carlton had before walking in.

“Okay, look,” Gus said, “Shawn told me about what’s going on between you guys and before I get into this, I think you should know that whatever happens I…well I’m okay with it. I’ve listened to him talk about you long enough that I know for sure he…he loves you. And if you really love him back…” Gus shrugged, scratching his arm absently, “I’m happy for you. But you know Shawn isn’t really as flippant as you think he is when it comes to relationships. When he’s truly into someone, he tries really hard to not be his normal flighty self. It’s just he’s…he feels like he’s not good enough and his defense is to protect his heart.”

Carlton though back to his interactions with Shawn over the last few days. Shawn had come off confident enough in bed, and it had been Shawn that had shown Carlton how to admit his innermost feelings. But there was one sentence Shawn had spoken that made everything Gus was saying ring true. _“Just…don’t leave me.”_ At the time, Carlton had only heard it as a plea based on current circumstances. With Gus’ insight, it became so much more.

“I promise I won’t hurt him.” Carlton said, feeling more like he was talking to a protective father than a best friend.

Gus nodded and continued, “There’s something else you have to understand about him, though. About his mind.”

“You mean his eidetic memory?” Carlton asked.

“No. I mean that’s part of it, but there’s more. Shawn’s been talking to me a little bit over the last few days and he truly blames himself for what happened. In his mind, he should have been able to stop the shooting somehow.”

“That’s just not true.” Carlton said, “Nobody could have predicted that outcome, let alone stop it.”

“I know that.” Gus said, “And you know that. And I’m sure that somewhere deep down, Shawn knows that too, but he’s not going to let himself get over the guilt. Shawn doesn’t feel guilty about much of anything that happens in his life, but when he does actually, you know, feel guilty about something it tears him apart worse than anybody I’ve ever seen.”

“We all feel guilty about something at some point.” Carlton said, thinking this was undoubtedly one of the weirdest conversations he’d ever had.

“But we figure out how to deal with it and put it behind us. Shawn doesn’t seem to have that ability.”

“Meaning what?”

“Okay, so like, when he was sixteen, he accidently hit a dog with his Dad’s car. The dog died. Shawn was crushed. I know it doesn’t sound like something that would bother him, especially when so much else was going on at the time with his parents and stuff, but it did. He kept telling me he should have been able to stop it somehow.”

“Just like he keeps saying he should have been able to stop the shooting.” Carlton said faintly.

The parallel with the current situation was obvious. And if he had gotten that upset over a dog, feeling that he should have somehow been able to save that boy must be tearing him apart on a level Carlton couldn’t begin to fathom. It made him completely re-evaluate what he had been witnessing.

“So, what happened?” Carlton asked. “What made him stop feeling guilty?”

Gus suddenly looked uncomfortable again, but he forged ahead looking determined. “He kept digging at his Dad. Kept getting him more and more pissed off until he finally snapped and took Shawn to the proverbial woodshed.”

For a moment Carlton stared at Gus, feeling a little confused. When the words finally sifted through, he felt an embarrassed flush creep up his neck and face, “You’re telling me Henry spanked him? When he was sixteen?”

Gus seemed to politely ignore the blush, “Strapped him, actually. And it was not something his Dad did often. Neither his Dad or his Mom were really into physical forms of discipline. I only remember a couple times before that. And what made it worse was Shawn kept…like…goading his Dad even after he had started crying. We never talked about it but I know he orchestrated the whole thing because he wanted to be punished over the dog. Like physical pain would ease the guilt. And it did.”

Carlton digested what Gus said. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t picture Shawn going through that process, mentally or physically, but then he was learning more and more about him every day.

“What exactly are you telling me, Gus? That I need to go back to Shawn’s and…and what? Put him over my knee?”

“It’s the only way he’s going to be able to deal with the guilt part of this.”

Carlton stared at Gus for several long moments. There was something else Shawn’s childhood friend wasn’t telling him. His cop intuition was sure of it. Gus’ eyes skittered from his, away and back again, only to drop to the desktop where they seemed to take an intense interest in the bag of jelly beans that were sitting there. Slow realization hit Carlton. “You’ve spanked him, Gus?”

Gus didn’t answer right away. The silence was loud and quite deafening until he finally nodded slowly, “Once.”

Carlton didn’t press for details. He didn’t want to know the details. Whatever had happened, happened between Gus and Shawn and it was in their past not his. Instead, he said, “I appreciate your insight, Guster. I know this wasn’t easy.” He paused, “You’re a good friend to him.”

“I’m his **best** friend.” Gus countered, his eyes finally finding Carlton’s and holding them.

Carlton nodded, hearing the unabashed truth in Gus’ tone. He started to turn and leave but Gus stopped him.

“Shawn really does hurt easily. That’s why commitment is so hard for him. Take care of his heart, Carlton.”

Carlton nodded again, unsure of what to say, and so said nothing. He walked out of the Psych office. The air outside was cool, but the sun was warm. Carlton felt the slight breeze wash over him as he walked back to his car. His phone alerted him to a text just as he situated himself behind the steering wheel. He looked at it. Shawn.

_Pick up some burger and catsup while you’re there_ the text read

Carlton remembered he was supposed to be at the store.

_Okay. NE thing else?_

_Whip cream if UR feeling naughty_

_Ha ha. Be home soon_

Carlton had already pocketed his phone before he realized what he had just texted: _Be home_. Not be back or see you, but _be home_. Part of him hoped Shawn wouldn’t noticed, but the other part knew there was no way he wouldn’t notice. And that part of him found that he was okay with it. _Be home._

Smiling to himself, Carlton headed to the store, trying to think of what he could buy that would explain why he had wanted to go to the store in the first place.


	10. Chapter Ten

Shawn was finishing up the last of the accumulated dishes when he heard Carlton come in the door. He felt a familiar flutter in his stomach, picturing the scene in all of its simplistic glory. How often had he let his mind play out those small fantasies of domesticity when he was alone watching television in the wee hours of the morning because sleep wouldn’t come?

He glanced back over his shoulder, grinning as Carlton entered the kitchen and sat several bags down on the counter, “Hey, Lassie.”

He was a little startled when Carlton wrapped his arms around him and pressed a gentle, almost hesitant kiss against his lips. The sensation sent a shock straight down and he immediately felt stirrings below the waist.

“Holy wallflowers in a mansion, Batman.” He said when Carlton drew back, “Turn around and come back in again.”

Carlton only smiled and began unpacking the bags. Shawn let the water out of the sink and dried his hands, “Whadja bring?”

“Your burger and catsup.” Carlton replied, “And a few things we can make some meals out of.”

Shawn watched him methodically putting the groceries away, trying to figure out how to broach the subject he’d spend most of the morning thinking about. He had been arguing back and forth with himself and had finally decided to bring it into the open.

He was sure Carlton didn’t want anybody to know what was going on between them and if he stayed much longer without going to work, they were surely going to start asking questions at the precinct. He didn’t want Carlton to go back to work. In fact, he was terrified of what his mind would do if he was left alone, but he couldn’t ask Carlton to compromise himself. And Shawn knew he, himself, was nowhere near ready to go back to work yet so he would be alone when Carlton went.

“Sooo, Lassie,” He started, his tone not nearly as nonchalant as he would have liked, “When, uhm, you thinking about heading back to work?”

He saw Carlton tense suddenly. The head detective turned to face him and there was a flash of something across his face that Shawn pegged as fear. But it was there and gone so fast that he wasn’t entirely sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him.

“Are you ready for me to?” Carlton asked, his tone was even, but Shawn sensed something behind it, elusive, like that impression of fear when Carlton had first turned to face him.

On the surface, the question seemed to allude to Shawn’s mental state. But Shawn had a feeling that wasn’t what he was talking about. In his mind’s eye he saw Carlton’s face, awash in the inner turmoil of his heart saying _Please don’t hurt me._

“No.” Shawn said, wondering why he could suddenly feel his heart beating in his throat, “If I had my way, we’d never go back. But I don’t want you having to answer questions you’re not ready to answer.”

Carlton’s body visibly relaxed and he shut his eyes briefly. Shawn suddenly understood. And in that understanding, he realized how delicate Carlton’s sense of self was in the area of love. More so than Shawn himself was. Underneath that gruff and grumbly exterior lay a heart that believed itself to be unworthy and perhaps even unable to be loved. It was an awe-inspiring realization to understand  
Carlton had come to save him but the reality was they were saving each other.

He approached Carlton, holding those breathtakingly blue eyes with his own and reached out, cupping his hand around Carlton’s neck, brushing his thumb along that chiseled jaw. Wordlessly, he leaned up, putting his lips to Carlton’s and saying everything he could through the tenderest of kisses.

Shawn felt Carlton relax more, but there was still an undercurrent of anxiety and he didn’t know how to make that anxiety fad away completely. When he had taken Carlton to bed the night before, he had known there would be some insecurity. Carlton had never allowed himself to give in to what he, in essence, considered his dark side. Shawn had been as gentle as he could be, speaking words aloud that he had often thought but never in a million years thought he’d get to say out loud. And while his words had pleased Carlton to a point, Shawn had seen on a much deeper level that Carlton didn’t quite believe them. There was a half- hidden truth in those blue eyes that said he had heard the exact opposite too many times to believe Shawn was speaking true words straight from the heart.

“I’m broken.” He said quietly, gripping both of Carlton’s hands in his, “But so are you. We need to make each other whole again, and Carlton, I swear to everything that is holy, I will _never_ intentionally hurt you.”

Shawn could see Carlton wanted to believe him. But that small shadow of doubt remained. Shawn knew that you couldn’t spend as many years as Carlton had protecting yourself only to drop your shields at the snap of a finger. He knew because his own shields had been trying to assert themselves since finding Carlton in his house cooking breakfast.

After several moments of silence, Shawn gave Carlton’s hands a squeeze and then turned to finish putting the groceries away.

As he put the burger and milk in the fridge, his own words played in his head. _I’m broken_. And he was. He was so broken he was scared, and he wasn’t entirely sure that Carlton could do anything about it. Carlton was broke, but Shawn truly believed if given enough time, he could heal the damage that had been done to Carlton’s heart. He could make Carlton believe in himself again, believe he was worthy of love.

But how could Carlton fix a brain that had been wired so different from other brains? A brain that had been trained and honed to a razor’s edge by years of excessive, and occasionally obsessive, instruction on seeing every nuance of a situation in the blink of an eye. Like the faces of armed police officers when they realized they had no control over a situation. Like the faces of an innocent bystander being used as a human shield. Like the face of a young boy who has no idea that in four and a half steps he will be dead. Like…

“Shawn!”

Carlton’s voice, commanding, demanding Shawn’s attention focus on him.

“Shawn!”

Carlton’s hand covered his on the handle of the refrigerator.

Shawn blinked, focusing on that voice and that hand. Desperately, he clawed his way back from the whirlpool that was trying to drag him down. He was in his kitchen, not that chaotic street. He was in his kitchen with the scratch in his refrigerator that looked like the profile of a long-nosed witch. His kitchen, with the stain on the fourth tile out of the left side of his stove. His kitchen, where Carlton Lassiter was holding his hand and trying to pull him back to the present.

“I’m…I’m okay, Lassie.”

The fingers on his hand contracted slightly into a gentle squeeze and was gone.

Shawn felt a sudden burst of anger at himself, at his “gift”, at his Dad, at everything. The anger escalated to rage in a heartbeat and before he even realized he was doing it; he spun and drove his fist into the refrigerator. The shockwave of pain raced from his knuckles all the way to his elbow. In the same breath, he heard Carlton shout his name, the tone equal parts shock and fear.

He was pulling back to pummel the refrigerator again, but Carlton suddenly had a hold of him. It wasn’t a hold of comfort, nor was it exactly gentle. It was the hold of a seasoned police officer restraining a criminal.

“Enough, Spencer!” Carlton barked, sufficiently immobilizing him.

This was not the first time Carlton had restrained him. Many of their early encounters had led to perhaps excessive amounts of Carlton manhandling Shawn. But this was different. Shawn could feel the difference, even through the red haze of rage. This hold was panicked, desperate, and it solidified this new relationship they had perhaps more than anything else thus far.

As quickly as it had emerged, the rage dissipated, leaving Shawn trembling with pain screaming through his hand. His body relaxed, leaning into Carlton’s solid form as he felt the exhaustion his lack of sleep was causing shroud over him in a thick fog.

Carlton seemed to feel him relax and spun him around to face him, “What the hell, Spencer?” he snapped, picking up Shawn’s hand, albeit gently, to examine it.

Shawn winced and pulled away, “I’m just so sick of this.” He sighed, “Things were never supposed to get this serious. It was just supposed to be about putting the bad guys away.”

“This is why real cops go through training, Shawn.” Carlton said, “And even with that training some guys wash out after something like this.”

Shawn was silent a moment, gingerly flexing his hand. It didn’t appear that he had broken anything but, fuck that hurt.

The silence stretched out as Shawn tried to find the words to make Carlton understand how he felt. It was nearly impossible for the simple fact that he had never dealt with his feelings before. He was a runner and he knew it. Even now, finally having Lassie the way he had only dreamed of having him for so many years, he was fighting that instinct to run, to get as far away from Santa Barbara as he could. And every time he backslid to that day, that horrific day, the fight was getting harder and harder to win.

“I’m not like those guys.” He said finally, “You don’t understand what I was trained to do, Lassie. I was forced to be better than them. There is no other cop on this planet who was taught how to break out of closed trunks or get out of their own handcuffs. I should have known how that whole situation was going to end. _I_ should have been able to stop it.”

Shawn looked up, catching Carlton’s eye and looking for any indication that the head detective understood what he was trying to say. Carlton was staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. Flat blue eyes met his own and Shawn felt a ripple of fear run down his back and settle like an iceberg in his stomach.

“Lassie?” he asked hesitantly.

Carlton inhaled deeply and Shawn got the distinct impression he was gearing himself up for something. The iceberg slowly rolled over in his gut, leaving him feeling slightly nauseous, wondering if he had offended Carlton somehow with what he had said, and if Carlton was getting ready to walk out on him.

Finally, Carlton spoke and there was a hint of anger in his tone, an anger not quite like anything Shawn had ever heard in him before. “You think you should have been able to stop that scum-sucking, puss-bucket from shooting that kid.” It was a statement of fact, not a question.

Shawn tried to say something but found he had no voice under Carlton’s gaze.

“Well, you know what, Spencer?” Carlton continued, a dangerous edge to his tone, “If that’s true, then you did fuck up. You fucked up in just about the worst way possible, right?”

Shawn could only stare, mouth gaping open, feeling like he’d just been punched in the gut hard.

“Well, Spencer, when people fuck up that badly I guess they need to pay the price. There’s consequences to fucking up that bad, Spencer, and you’re about to suffer them.”

Shawn felt something buried deep inside of himself begin to crawl out of its den. It was that piece of him that incessantly riled his Dad after the accident that killed the dog. It was that piece of him that demanded punishment be served when his carefree nature had gotten Gus so badly beaten, he’d been in the hospital for two weeks. It was that piece of him that had been screaming at him from the darkness since the shooting.

Carlton grabbed him by the arm and began shoving him toward the bedroom. When he spoke, it was in a cold, impartial cop voice, “I’ll show you the consequences for fucking up, Spencer. And you’re going to take every bit of it until your debt is paid.”

Once they were in the bedroom, Carlton let go of his arm, spinning him around to face him. The look on Carlton’s face was completely indecipherable to Shawn, fury and tension mixed with another emotion Shawn didn’t understand. He stood silently, waiting for instructions and accepting his deservance of whatever was coming. He watched as Carlton stepped towards him, unbuckling his belt and unfastening his pants. With a quick shove, Carlton pushed Shawn’s jeans and underwear down. Despite the fact Shawn had been quite naked in front of the head detective just last night, he felt an embarrassing shame fill him and he suddenly couldn’t look Carlton in the eye. His gaze dropped to the floor and he stared at it, jaws clenched. He heard Carlton unbuckle his belt and remove it, and then heard the belt drop onto the bed.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Carlton’s shoes as they turned toward the bed and glancing quickly to the side, Shawn saw him arranging the pillows, laying two of them on top of each other in the center of the bed. Shawn’s heart began trip-hammering somewhere in the vicinity of this throat and a large part of him suddenly wanted to apologize and beg Carlton to not do this. But the other part, even though it seemed a minute part, completely overrode that urge to apologize and forced him to stand still, waiting uncharacteristically silently.

Carlton’s shoes turned back toward him and when Carlton spoke, it was still laced with that cold impartiality of the head detective that he was. “Lay down on the bed, Spencer.”

Shawn moved to the bed and placed himself into position over the stacked pillows, still unable to look at Carlton. He reached above him and pulled another pillow toward him, burying his face in it until he was cocooned in darkness. His ears were working fine, however, and he heard the leather of Carlton’s belt rasp against the comforter as it was picked up.

He braced himself and was waiting, tensed and silent. He expected a lecture, for Carlton to start sounding like his Dad, but when Carlton spoke, it was so close to his ear that he could feel the warm breath and his voice, a low growl, “Don’t you dare move” caused Shawn’s breath to catch and something akin to panic raced through him.

There was no forthcoming lecture. No warning at all, aside from the near silent whisper of the leather cutting through the air a fraction of a second before a strip of fire lanced across Shawn’s backside with a crack that echoed in the room. He almost cried out but he bit it back, his fingers gripping the pillow tightly. He couldn’t stop the convulsive jerk, however, and he felt his backside clench as the pain burned into his skin.

The belt whispered again and Shawn bit the pillow his head was buried in as his hips tried to jerk him down and away from the pain bearing strip of leather. The belt had landed very nearly on top of the first strike but off just enough to include fresh flesh, setting it aflame so the burn increased across his skin. Trying to breathe, Shawn reflexively jerked his hips downward again as soon as the whisper reached him. The pillows were soft, but not soft enough to allow him any room to squirm away from the leather as it cracked down on him again.

He swallowed the cry before it could escape him and before he could draw in another breathe, the leather was back again, cracking home. The inferno was mounting, beginning to engulf the entirety of his ass. He had already lost count of the number; aware it was low and acutely aware this whole experience was just getting started.

As the leather found its mark time and again, Shawn felt tears begin to wet the fabric of the pillow he was buried in. He was squirming, unable to stop, clenching his cheeks together in an effort to allay some of the fiery pain.

It continued, and his quiet gasps turned into hitching sobs that were quieted by the pillow. The pain was building. Fire raged across his backside uncontrolled. His fingers were tangled so tight into the pillow, they were almost numb.

A blow, harder than any of the others, lanced across his ass and Shawn’s back arched. His head jerked up and his cry was unmuffled, filling the room. Another blow, somehow even harder, caused him to arch again, needing to get away yet needing to feel it. He was scarcely aware of anything going on around him, completely unaware of the tears streaming down his face or the hoarse sobs being torn from his chest. And still the belt came, paced, methodical, and raining fire.

The pain had swallowed everything, the memories, the sounds of the repeated screams, the shocked faces of those sworn to protect, everything, leaving room only for raw emotion. The pain of his self-imposed guilt, mixed with the very real pain radiating from his backside, created a potent mix of anguished castigation. In this world of emotion, the guilt began to slowly fade, being swallowed by the pain; began to fade as the fire purified his tortured soul.

He only became aware that the belt had stopped when he felt Carlton picking him up and folding him into his arms. A hand gently caressed his back as Carlton slowly rocked him.

“Shh.” Carlton said softly, gentle now. The cop was gone, “It’s over now. It’s all over.”

Shawn tucked into those arms, still sobbing but feeling lighter somehow, freer. The guilt had been allayed somewhere in the midst of that pain.

Slowly, the sobs began to taper off, although the pain in his backside didn’t diminish. He was suddenly so very tired, tired beyond mere exhaustion, and the rocking motion was relaxing him even more. The last thing he remembered before falling into a deep and dreamless sleep was looking up at Carlton and seeing tears sliding quietly down his cheeks.

Carlton watched Shawn drift off and then gently shifted him so he was laying on the bed. He got up and went into the bathroom, turning on the cold water at the sink. He splashed it over his face and then looked at himself in the mirror. His tears had mixed with the water, but his eyes were red.

He had done a lot of hard things in his life, had made a lot of tough decisions, but what he had just done had been without a doubt the hardest. He had fully planned on ignoring what Gus had told him. But after listening to Shawn and the determination he had that he should have been able to stop the shooting, he knew on a gut level that Gus was right and if he really was going to help Shawn, he was going to have to heed what Gus said.

He wasn’t sure, even after he had started it, that it would work, but he could _see_ it working in the way Shawn had responded. And he knew exactly when Shawn had let go of the guilt. He knew if somebody asked him to explain it, he wouldn’t be able to in a million years. He could barely explain it to himself, but he had seen a subtle shift in Shawn’s reactions, a release of the guilt.

Turning off the water, Carlton dried his hands and his face. The tears weren’t falling freely anymore, but his eyes still stung. He left the bathroom and then the bedroom, quietly turning off the lights so Shawn could get some much-needed sleep.

* * *

Carlton was sitting on the couch eating a bowl of spaghetti Os and watching COPs when he heard Shawn wandering out of the bedroom. Nearly seven hours had passed and darkness had fallen outside the windows.

Shawn came into the living room wearing only a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants. Wordlessly, he eased himself onto the couch, laying down on his side and using Carlton’s lap for a pillow. Carlton absently stroked his hair. He wanted to apologize, say he was sorry for hurting him, but he didn’t. He somehow knew that if he did, it would make things worse again. Instead, he said gently but firmly, “I want you to call your Mom tomorrow and ask her to help you figure out how to deal with these memories you have.”

For a moment, Shawn remained silent, his eyes following the movement on the television. Then he nodded slowly, “Okay.”

Carlton was surprised. He’d expected resistance and received none. He continued stroking Shawn’s hair in silence, simply enjoying his closeness.

The silence stretched on until Shawn finally spoke again, “What’s going to happen with us when everything goes back to normal?”

The question gave Carlton pause. He hadn’t actually thought that far in advance. “What do you want to happen?” he asked, looking down at Shawn.

Shawn didn’t answer right away. His eyes continued following the movement on the television but Carlton could tell he wasn’t actually watching it. Finally, Shawn said, “Are you going to tell people I’m not really a psychic?”

Carlton couldn’t help but chuckle and Shawn looked up at him, his face a mixture of surprise and alarm.

“Shawn, I’ve been telling people that since I met you. They didn’t believe me then, and they’re not going to believe me now.”

Shawn grinned a little and his gaze went back to the television. “What about us?”

Carlton could hear the worry behind the question. He thought about it for a while before answering, “Well, I imaging you’re going to keep annoying the hell out of me and solving cases just like you were before.” He paused, choosing his words carefully, aware that his awkwardness was showing, “But I…I really like what we’ve started and I’d really like to be together with you. If you have the patience for me to be comfortable enough to be open and…” He stopped. It sounded like he wasn’t comfortable with Shawn and that’s not what he was trying to say, “I mean, not that I’m not okay with us, just…I mean…”

Shawn raised himself up to look Carlton in the eyes. Hazel eyes, dark in the glow of the television, seemed to search him for something and he didn’t know what. Finally, Shawn kissed him gently, “It’s okay, Lassie. It’s a big step for someone like you that’s repressed themselves for as long as you have. I understand you’re not going to walk into SBPD tomorrow and announce you’re out of the closet and dating me. I’m not going to push you into something you’re not ready for. But I want to be with you, Carlton, even if we only express ourselves outside of work. I just need to know so I don’t do something to screw this up.”

Carlton stared into those eyes, his stomach fluttering at Shawn’s proclamation. He still wasn’t sure _why_ Shawn liked him and part of him still felt guarded, but a larger part found he trusted Shawn and it was almost scary how quickly it had happened.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to Shawn’s and kissing him deeply, tried to put everything into that one act. Shawn kissed him back and, in that kiss, Carlton found an honest acceptance and a reassurance that everything would be alright.


	11. Chapter Eleven

The next morning as Carlton fixed breakfast, Shawn called his Mom. Carlton listened to what he could as he fried up the bacon, trying to assure himself that Shawn was actually doing what had been asked. After his initial reaction, Carlton found it hard to believe he gave in so easy this time.

“Can’t a guy call just to talk to his Mom?” Shawn asked, his voice drifting in from the living room, “Of course he did.” Shawn said after a pause. “No, Mom, listen, I don’t want to talk to him right now. I’ve got too much to deal with already.” He paused again, longer this time, “Mom…no listen, Mom. Are you…busy right now?” A shorter pause, “Well, I was wondering if you might be able to come out here for a little while. Mom, I just,” his voice faltered a moment, “I just really could use some help right now.” There was another pause, longer than any of the others, “You sure it’s not a problem?...Okay, Love you too, Mom. Bye.”

Shawn came in the kitchen to stand by Carlton, watching him fry the bacon.

“What’d she say?” Carlton asked.

“She said she’s going to catch the next flight out.”

Carlton nodded, giving Shawn a side-ways glance. Even with the sleep he had gotten, he still looked tired and drawn out. And he had still woke up this morning, kicking and grabbing at the covers like they were attacking him and shouting incoherently.

“Look, Shawn.” Carlton said, “I know this is hard for you but it really is for the best.”

“Yeah, run to Mommy when the job gets to be too much.” Shawn replied with a bitter edge to his voice.

“You do realize that when situations like that happen, it’s mandatory for the officers involved to see the department psychologist, right? Hell, Shawn, that’s what your Mom used to do.”

“I’m not a copy!” Shawn shot back.

Carlton felt a twinge of anger run through him and after taking up the bacon he put the spatula down with more force that he intended. He turned to face Shawn fully, “No, you’re not.” He snapped back, “You’re a glorified civilian and you have no business doing half of the crap you do.”

Shawn stared at him for several long moments, looking hurt and making Carlton feel like an ass. It wasn’t like he hadn’t said those things before but now it was different. Now it wasn’t Shawn doing stupid things just to get a rise out of him. The dynamics of their whole relationship had skewed into different territory and for the first time, Carlton realized what they would be facing by trying to hide things.

“You know my Dad spent my entire childhood teaching me how to be this perfect cop.” Shawn said quietly, “But then him and Mom split and things happened. At that point the last thing I wanted to do was be that cop Dad wanted me to be so badly. But I still wanted to help people. It’s such a rush when I break a case or help solve something. It’s like, I just can’t be what Dad wanted me to be so badly, but I still want to help people. I ran and ran and still wound up back here doing this.”

Carlton watched Shawn quietly, his anger ebbing, Shawn wasn’t looking at him. He was staring at the floor, leaning against the counter and gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white. Carlton knew on a gut level that Shawn was being more honest with him at this moment than he ever been with anybody else, expect maybe Gus, and it wasn’t easy for him.

He also understood that Shawn’s dynamics with his father were more screwed up than he had realized. He knew Henry loved Shawn and would step in front of a bullet to save his son. But his parenting skills were a tad questionable sometimes.

“Look,” Carlton said putting a hand on Shawn’s shoulder, “There’s no shame in this. You have a…a gift that very few people in the world have to deal with. I get what you’re saying. You want to help people, need to help people. But you have GOT to admit to yourself that there are situations on this path that you are not prepared to handle and your Mom is the best suited to help you get through them, through this.”

Shawn finally looked up to meet Carlton’s eyes and Carlton could see the resignation there, “I know.”

“Let’s just have some breakfast.” Carlton said brushing his thumb over Shawn’s jaw as he took has hand off his shoulder and turned to the stove.

“Yeah, okay.” Shawn said, nodding and offering a smile that was only a shadow of its normal self, “What’re you making?”

“I made you some pineapple pancakes.” Carlton said, “And some plain buttermilk for me.”

Shawn’s smile became more genuine, “Pineapple?”

“I had a hunch you might like them.”

Carlton picked up the two plates next to the stove and carried them over to the table. Shawn followed after getting a couple forks and the syrup out of the refrigerator. Carlton sat down to eat and tried to ignore the fact that Shawn had chosen to eat standing up.

“Pineapple heaven on a stick!” Shawn exclaimed after his first bite of pancake, “Lassie, you are Queen Latifah’s Last Holiday in the kitchen, dude.”

Carlton tried to piece out what Shawn had said, but couldn’t. He knew who Queen Latifah was and he had seen commercials for the Last Holiday, but he hadn’t watched it. There were no guns or explosions in it. But Shawn’s tone seemed to indicate it was a compliment and so he took it as one, “Thank you. Bachelor cooking.”

They ate in silence for a moment before Carlton said, “Why don’t we take a walk today? You haven’t been outside for a week now.”

A cloud passed briefly over Shawn’s face as he forked a bite of pineapple into his mouth. As he swallowed, his features schooled themselves back into an almost cheery smile. “Outside is SO overrated, Lassiebear. Let’s just stay inside and have wild, animal sex all day.”

Carlton was just taking a drink of his coffee and almost choked on it. Shawn burst out laughing. Carlton glared at him blushing furiously. Although a part of him found the idea appealing, a larger part of him was embarrassed at the bluntness of the statement.

A thought occurred to him suddenly as Shawn’s laughter calmed into a series of chuckles. Shawn had made the comment and worded it intentionally to pull Carlton’s mind away from the idea of taking a walk. He was exceptionally good at misdirection.

“We’ll just go down to the park and come back.” He said.

Shawn’s chuckles dried up almost immediately. His eyes skipped to Carlton’s and they away almost at once. Carlton had a feeling that Shawn had been able to completely read his expression in that glance and so made sure to keep it firm.

“I don’t want to go for a walk.” Shawn said finally, all pretense gone from his tone.

Carlton debated on whether to push the issue. Since Madeline was going to be there soon, it might be the right call to just let her deal with it. But he needed to know one thing before he dropped the subject. “Why?”

He hoped his tone was lighter and more questioning than it actually sounded to his own ears. This wasn’t an interrogation. It was a conversation.

“I just don’t want to.” Shawn said, putting his fork down.

Without another word he walked away from the table.

Carlton sighed, watching Shawn walk into the living room and lay down on the couch. The TV flicked to life seconds later and began surfing through the channels. Moments later it stopped and Carlton recognized the opening theme for ‘Miami Vice’. Carlton stood up and began clearing the table. He wanted to follow Shawn and find out why the idea of going on a simple walk and affected him that way and after emptying the scraps off the plates into the trash, he almost did.

He stopped himself, however. One thing he had learned about Shawn in the last week was that when it came to dealing with emotions, he was about as adept at it as Carlton was, which was to say not at all. Most people saw Carlton as the curmudgeonly Head Detective, irritable and old before his time. The truth was, anger and irritability were the emotions he could deal with easiest. And as an added benefit, it kept most people from trying to get to know him better.

Shawn used his jokes and played the clown for the same reason. Carlton had always known on some level that Shawn acted the way he did for a reason. Most people though he was just eccentric because of his whole “psychicness”. Since Carlton had never bought into that he was able to perceive that there was more to it. It was only in the last few days that he realized it for what it was. On the one hand, it offered Shawn the ability to misdirect his audience. One the other hand, it allowed him to be anything but serious. His abrupt tone over the idea of going for a walk and his unwillingness to discuss it proved that without those jokes and the clownish act, he floundered.

Pushing Shawn right now when he was already on unstable footing would probably be about the worst thing he could do. So, he cleared the table, poured himself another cup of coffee, and started running the water to wash the dishes. He had almost finished when he suddenly felt Shawn standing behind him. Drying his hands, Carlton turned to face him.

Shawn just stared at him silently for a moment, but Carlton could see a war being fought inside him. Beneath the stubble of almost a week without shaving, his jaws were clenched tightly, teeth almost grinding as he worked to find the words he wanted to say. His hazel eyes had turned an almost turbulent green, the color of an algae infused ocean crashing into a rocky shore.

“There’s too many triggers outside.” Shawn finally managed. His voice was low but trembling ever so slightly, “You just can’t understand. Anything from that moment in time, _anything_ , will trigger it. I could see someone wearing earbuds, or someone wearing the same color dress as the hostage.” His voice broke and his gaze wavered, “A kid playing in the park or even just walking down the sidewalk. I still have triggers from Yang. I was eating a damn bowl of cereal a couple weeks ago. _Cereal_ , Lassie. It was what the waitress served me. And then he killed her.”

Shawn’s eyes went to the ceiling as tears began to fall. He covered his nose and mouth with his hands for a moment and Carlton could see that war being fought even clearer. He waited, wondering if the conversation alone was going to be enough to send Shawn into another episode.

“Stay with me, Shawn.” He said when Shawn’s gaze began getting a semi-distant look to it, as if he were looking back in time and not at the kitchen ceiling. Carlton’s words seemed to force Shawn’s eyes back down to focus on him and the pain in those eyes twisted a knot in his guts. “We’re here, now.” Carlton continued once he had Shawn’s attention, “Not there. Here. Focus on now.”

Shawn took a half step towards Carlton and that was all he needed to wrap his arms around the younger man. He could feel Shawn trembling slightly as he rested his chin on top of Shawn’s head. He could smell the pineapple shampoo and feel the heat that was radiating through him.

“I’m sorry you have to go through this, Shawn.” He said quietly, “But think about all the success you’ve had because of your gift. You’ll get through this. Your Mom will help you and I’ll be at your side every step of the way.”

Shawn took half a step back, breaking the embrace, “So you’re the psychic now?”

If he was trying to be light-hearted, it didn’t work. There was too much of a strain in his voice and his eyes lacked the general mischievousness that normally accompanied his one-liners and verbal zingers. Carlton noticed just how bad Shawn was looking. The shaded marks under his eyes had gotten so dark it looked like he’d been punched. While he had been eating, it looked like he had lost weight. His cheeks had a gaunt look to them and his eyes were sunken.

“You look like hell, Spencer.” Carlton said.

A tired smile passed over Shawn’s lips briefly. “Why thank you, Lassiekins.”

“I don’t suppose you want to take a nap?”

Shawn shook his head, “Sleep is highly overrated.”

“Would it help if I laid down with you?”

“Why, Lassiebear!” Shawn exclaimed, a spark of his old self flashing briefly to life, “Are you propositioning me, dude? Because really, I’ll go to bed with your sexiness anytime.”

Carlton felt the tips of his ears turning pink again and a heat down low that caused him to start hardening almost immediately. He dropped his arms onto Shawn’s shoulders and leaned his forehead against Shawn’s, “There will be plenty of time for that later, Shawn. Right now, I’m worried more about your health than I am our…sex life.” The phrase ‘sex life’ felt foreign on his tongue, but it caused a not totally unpleasant feeling to spread through him.

Shawn rested his hands on Carlton’s waist and sighed, “I know you are, Lass. The problem is, your glorious presence on the outside doesn’t stop what’s going on, on the inside.”

“Fair enough.” Carlton said. He really hoped Shawn’s Mom was going to be able to help with this because he had no idea what to do. How long could someone go without sleep?

“Let’s go watch TV.” He said.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Later that night, Shawn was sitting in the darkened living room watching an old re-run of ‘Ren and Stimpy’. Carlton was beside him, but had fallen asleep a couple hours previous. Shawn’s attention was divided between watching the antics on the television and Carlton’s sleeping for.

Part of him felt bad that he had become so dependent on Carlton’s presence. He felt bad that Carlton was so worried about him that he wouldn’t even go sleep on a comfortable bed, choosing instead to watch a television show that probably grated every nerve in his chiseled Irish body. He had dreamed of a relationship with Carlton almost since he had first met him in that interrogation room. Even when Henry had been dragging him to booking when he was 17 and he had caught his first glimpse of Carlton, even with that cheesy mustache he had been sporting, Shawn remembered thinking he was kind of sexy.

Carlton shifted and his head snapped back as it fell of the side of the couch. He started, looking around a moment as if he expected someone to ambush him.

“Whoa there, Lassie.” Shawn said, putting a steadying hand on Carlton’s arm, “No injuns here, just us cowboys.”

“Mmph.” Carlton grunted, roughly massaging his neck, “I must’ve fell asleep.”

“Why don’t you go to bed, Lass? I’ll be alright.”

Carlton looked at him sleepily, “I’m okay out here.”

A measure of shame rolled through Shawn as he looked into that face with its five o’clock shadow grizzling the normally smooth skin.

“Okay?” he asked trying to smile and failing spectacularly, “Dude, you just about snapped your head off. You don’t need to be breaking body parts off for me, Lassie.”

Carlton looked at him a moment longer and then nodded. He pulled himself up off the couch and stretch with a wide yawn, “Okay. But you come get me if you need to.”

“I will, Lassie. Pinky-swear promise.”

Carlton had just started back to the bedroom when someone knocked on the front door. Carlton paused in his step and Shawn looked at his watch.

“That’s probably Mom.” He said, getting up off the couch.

He went to the door to open it, trying to ignore the sudden lurch in his stomach. When he opened the door and saw his Mom standing there something happened that he didn’t expect. A know he didn’t even know was there released and a floodgate opened. Before she could even say anything, Shawn grabbed her in a bear hug as tears started falling.

“Mom,” he said, his voice trembling, “Thank you so much for coming.”

His Mom returned his hug just as tightly and suddenly Shawn was awash in memories of his childhood. Soothing memories of his Mom’s gentle touch, the soft nonsense words that she would whisper in his ear as he cried against her chest. It didn’t matter whether it was from a skinned knee or some horrible thing (at least horrible to a young child) that had happened. He would be enveloped in the scent that was uniquely hers and her gentle tones would dry his tears.

“It’s okay, Goose.” She replied gently, “I’ll help you get through this.”

Sniffing, Shawn let go of her nodding. He wasn’t sure he trusted himself to speak at the moment. He let her lead him back to the living room where she stopped suddenly. Her voice was slightly surprised when she said, “Detective Lassiter. Hello.”

“Oh.” Shawn said, suddenly remembering he hadn’t told his Mom about Carlton, “Uhm, Mom, Lassie’s been kind of helping me out.”

“Ms. Spencer.” Carlton said with a small nod.

Shawn’s Mom recovered herself quickly and her smile seemed genuine when she said, “That’s very kind of you, Carlton.”

Shawn detected a subtle note in her tone that suggested she had already picked up on the fact that there was more to Carlton’s presence than just helping someone out. It was so subtle, however, that he doubted Carlton had picked up on it.

Carlton looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t sure what to do next. Finally, he mumbled, “I’ll leave you two to walk.” And walked back towards the bedroom.

Shawn watched him walk into the bedroom with a small smile and then looked at his Mom. “You must be tired, Mom. Unfortunately, Lassie just took the only bed I have. You want me to get you a hotel room?”

“Oh, there’s no need for that.” His Mom said, “I can sleep right here on the couch.”

“You sure, Mom? It’s kind of old and lumpy.” He didn’t want to tell her that if she slept on the couch, he wouldn’t be able to zone out to the television. He’d have to actually go to bed. He’d actually have to try and sleep.

“I’m sure, Shawn.” His Mom said, “You go ahead and get some sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

Shawn nodded, forcing himself to smile and ignore his accelerating heart-rate, “Okay, Mom. Let me get you some blankets.”

After settling his Mom in, Shawn went into the bedroom and laid down next to Carlton on his back, staring at the darkness. His heart was trip-hammering in his chest and he could feel himself thrumming with anxiety. If he was lucky, he could just lay here until morning. Just lay here quietly, looking at the dark. Just lay here and breath. Just…

Shawn sat up suddenly. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t just lay still until morning, doing nothing except staring at the dark. He couldn’t stay still doing nothing on a good day. There was always too much restless energy flowing through him and this was a far cry from a good day.

He got up and paced the room. Seven steps took him to the window where faint light from the streetlight illuminated his room. Why couldn’t he just take control of this shit? Why did he have to be like he was? Four steps and he was in the bathroom. There was a nightlight in there that gave off a soft glow and in it, he could see his reflection in the mirror. Haunted eyes, drawn skin; he looked horrible. Five steps back into the bedroom where he almost walked into Carlton.

“Whoa.” He gasped, startled, “Thought you were counting logs, Lassie.”

He waited for the inevitable ‘that’s sawing logs’ or the ‘that’s counting sheep’ but it never came. Instead, Carlton reached out and laid a hand on Shawn’s shoulder. “Come lay down, Shawn.”

Shawn signed in resignation and followed Carlton into bed. Carlton spooned around him, wrapping Shawn tightly in his arms and giving him a gentle kiss on the back of his neck.

“It’ll be okay, Shawn.” He whispered, “I’m here.”

Focusing on the weight of Carlton’s arm and the warmth radiating into him from that lanky body, Shawn forced his eyes to close.

* * *

_Shawn stood looking at the chaos surrounding him. Police officers sheltered behind their cars; pedestrians had scattered. The object of everyone’s focus was across the street screaming nonsense and waving his pistol like the madman he was. The woman he had taken hostage was trapped against him, the arm not holding the pistol wrapped around her tightly._

_Shawn found himself flattened against the side of Carlton’s Crown Vic in the blink of an eye, with Carlton next to him yelling into his radio._

_“NO!” Shawn’s mind screamed at him, “The boy will be here! You have to stop it!”_

_Shawn saw the child coming down the side-walk of the alley, iPod flashing in the sun. The madman saw him too._

_“NO!” Shawn screamed standing up, “No, stop!”_

_The shot thundered. Pin drop silence. Eyes staring at him. The boy staring at him. Wait…this wasn’t right. The boy was alive. But, how? Shawn turned to Carlton in that silence only to find him lying on the ground with blood coating his chest and running out of his nose and mouth. Blue eyes stared skyward as his limbs twitched._

_“Lassie!” Shawn cried into the silence, dropping next to him, “Lassie, no, please.”_

_He picked up Carlton’s head cradling it. Carlton’s eyes wavered over to his, “Your fault, Shawn.” Blood bubbled out of his mouth, “Your fault.”_

_Shawn screamed, a high, wordless scream into the sky above him._

* * *

“Shawn!”

The voice was distant but urgent. He was choking on his own sobs, fighting against something that was holding him down in the darkness.

“Shawn!” the voice repeated, louder, still urgent.

He barely heard it above the high keening noise that seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. He struggled, sobbing, becoming briefly aware that he was the one making that noise. Lassie. He had to get to Lassie.

“Spencer!”

The voice. It was Lassie’s voice. Lassie was yelling at him. But how? He was shot. The blood. So much blood. His thrashing slowed as his confusion gained traction. Bright light suddenly flooded his eyes and another voice, worried, “Goose, what’s wrong?”

It was his Mom’s voice. Lassie and his Mom both talking to him and he fought his way to full consciousness. Carlton was straddling him, pinning his shoulders to the bed. His Mom was standing just inside the bedroom door. Both of them looked badly frightened.

Shawn couldn’t speak, still nearly choking on his sobs. Carlton seemed to sense he was no longer in the clutches of his nightmare, however and released his shoulders. Without any warning at all, his stomach decided to empty itself. He barely had time to twist under Carlton before it came out, some of it going on the floor but most of it going on the bed.

Somehow, Carlton managed to pull him up and away from the mess, holding him as wave after wave of convulsions tore through his stomach. When it had finally passed, Shawn leaned back into Carlton feeling completely wrung out. His Mom had rushed into the bathroom at his first heave and began to clean up the mess with the towels she had grabbed.

“It’s okay, Shawn.” Carlton soothed, rocking him gently, “It was just a bad dream. Everything’s okay.”

Shawn laid against him, listening to his voice until his shaking had ceased and his heard had slowed to its normal tempo. By then his Mom had finished cleaning up what she could, the sheets would need to be changed, and had went to the kitchen where Shawn could hear her opening and closing cupboards and rattling around.

“I’m alright.” He said finally, sitting up and turning to look at Carlton.

The look on Carlton’s face was skeptical but he said, “You sure?”

Shawn nodded and suddenly felt close to tears again as he said, “He shot you, Lassie. There was blood everywhere and you…you told me it was my fault.”

Carlton sighed and embraced him again, “It was just a bad dream, Shawn. I’m here. I’m okay.”

“I know.” Shawn replied, squeezing him firmly before letting go, “I know.”

* * *

“Has he been like this long?” Madeline asked as she sat down across from Carlton at the table.

Carlton sighed deeply as he gazed into the living room where Shawn was watching an old re-run of the ‘Brady Bunch’. “I thought he was better. But this…this was worse than anything I’ve seen yet.” He scrubbed his face with his hands, “I don’t know. I knew it was more than I could help him with. It’s why I made him call you.”

“You made him call me?” Madeline asked.

Carlton nodded. “Maybe if I had made him do it sooner…” He trailed off.

“Maybe you should start at the beginning, Carlton. Not all the way, I know about the shooting. Henry called me a couple days after it happened and I know he was worried. He said he had tried to talk to Shawn, but he wouldn’t open the door.”

“To be fair,” Carlton said, “I’m not sure he could have opened the door if he wanted to.”

“Oh?” Madeline said, her tone inviting Carlton to explain.

Carlton pulled his gaze away from the living room where Jan was lamenting _Marcia Marcia Marcia!_ And stared down at the table. He had a feeling this conversation was going to get uncomfortable but it had to happen if Madeline was going to be able to help.

“Guster called O’Hara five days after the shooting. He said neither he nor Henry could get him to open his door and wondered if either of us had talked to him…Well, if O’Hara had anyway. When I left work, I came over to check on him.”

“And he let you in when he wouldn’t let them in?” There was a slight note of surprise in Madeline’s tone.

“Not exactly.” Carlton said slightly embarrassed. He focused on his hands, “I used my lock pick to get in.” He waited for Madeline to say something but when the silence had lasted ten seconds or so he continued, his voice dropping even lower to try and keep Shawn from overhearing them, “I found him passed out on the couch. There were probably six or seven empty Jim Beam bottles on the floor. I was honest to God afraid to leave his side in case he threw up and choked.”

“He’s never turned to alcohol before.” Madeline mused, “That’s not a good sign.”

Carlton thought that might be the understatement of the millennium but he said nothing.

“What happened after he woke up?”

“He had some kind of episode.” Carlton said, almost shivering as he remembered turning from the stove to see Shawn on the floor banging his fist against his forehead. The bite of that memory made him consider what Shawn’s life was like and how in the name of Sweet Justice did that man not go insane?

“What kind of episode?” Madeline prompted after the silence had reeled out for several moments.

Carlton explained what he had seen physically, but told her, “I can only guess that he was seeing the shooting in his head.” He did shiver that time.

Madeline was again silent. When Carlton glanced up at her, she looked thoughtful.

“He told you about his memory, didn’t he?” It wasn’t so much a question as it was a statement.

Carlton nodded, “During that episode, actually. I don’t think he intended to, but he was so messed up, it just slipped out.”

“What’s happened since that first one that you witnessed?”

Carlton wondered about her choice of words. The implication was that there had been more before Carlton’s arrival. And if it, or they, were as bad as what Carlton had seen it was no wonder he had found him in the state he was in.

“He’s had them quite frequently but so far I’ve managed to talk him back to here and now. He’s had nightmares too, but nothing on the scale of what happened tonight. On a scale of 1 to 10, tonight was a 20.

“I know he hasn’t been sleeping hardly at all because of them. I can’t get him to leave the house. I just,” Carlton paused feeling a sudden urge to slam his fist on the table in his frustration. He held back, only making a fist, “I just don’t know how to help him.”

“Is there anything else?” Madeline asked, “What has he actually talked about?”

“Mostly just about how he can’t get the memories to stop playing in his head. He felt guilty. Said he should have been able to stop it.”

Carlton stopped. He didn’t want to tell her he had used his belt on Shawn. He didn’t even want to think about it. Hurting Shawn that way…Sure, he had wanted to strangle him more than once over the last few years. Shawn had such an innate ability to piss him off. But that…he had no idea that every time the belt connected; he would feel his own pain deep inside. Scrubbing his face with his hands again, he realized he was shaking.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Madeline asked, her tone gentile and non-judgmental.

Carlton sighed, removing his hands from his face. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I got a text from Guster yesterday. He said he needed to talk to me about Shawn, so I met him at the Psych office. When I got there, he told me this story about how Shawn hit a dog when he was 16 and…”

Madeline held up her hand, “And goaded his Dad into strapping him. I know the story.”

Carlton couldn’t read whether she believed Henry should have done it or not. So, he continued quietly, “So Gus tells me that if Shawn was going to lose the guilt, I was basically going to have to fill in for Henry. I wasn’t going to, Madeline. I swear I was going to just forget the entire conversation. But when I got home, Shawn about broke his hand punching the refrigerator, blaming himself for not being good enough to stop the shooting. I…I didn’t know what else to do.” He paused a moment and there was a slight catch to his voice when he said, “I thought it worked. I swear I felt him let go of it. But this nightmare? He said I had been shot and told him it was his fault.”

“Consciously he did let go of the guilt.” Madeline said, “Subconsciously, it still has a hold on him.”

“I shouldn’t have done it.” Carlton said

“I didn’t say that.” Madeline said, “I think what you did was exactly what Shawn needed at that point in time. But, let’s talk about you for a minute, Carlton.”

Carlton looked up, startled, “Me?”

Madeline nodded, “Yes. You’re quite different from the Head Detective that graced my couch a couple of years ago.”

Carlton felt the heat rushing to his cheeks. “I’ve had a lot of self-discovery during the last week.”

Madeline suddenly reached across the table to put her hand on top of Carlton’s. The touch was light, but it effectively broke the barrier of psychologist and patient, turning her into just Shawn’s Mom.

“How long have you been with Shawn?”

Carlton tried not to wince at the bluntness of the question. It was one thing for Gus and Juliet to know. It was another for somebody outside of their circle to know. Even if it was Shawn’s Mom. He didn’t feel confident in his newly admitted sexuality, but it wasn’t like he could lie to her. That option effectively went out the window when had had went to bed in Shawn’s bed.

“Judging from your reaction to the question, I’m going to say not long.” Madeline said, “In fact, I’m willing to bet being with another man is rather new to you.”

Unable to meet her gaze, Carlton only nodded.

“Well, I can tell you one thing, Carlton. If Shawn let you in when he was shutting everyone else out, you’re very special to him. And I’m very happy that you’ve stayed by him through this. I know it can’t have been easy.”

Carlton was finally able to look her in the eye as he said, “Shawn is very special to me. It may have been…hard for me to admit that to myself, but I can’t imagine not being here for him right now.”

“Madeline smiled and patted his hand, “Well, since I’m here, why don’t you let me sit up with him for a while and you can go get some sleep. You look about as rested as he does.”

Carlton nodded, “Okay. But wake me up if you need anything.”

“We’ll be fine, Carlton. I’ve had a little practice dealing with him.”

Carlton felt a ghost of a smile cross his lips as he stood up and walked over to the couch. Leaning down over the back, he said, “I’m going to go lay down, Shawn. You need anything?”

“All good here, Lassiebear.” Shawn replied looking up at him.

Carlton gave him a quick kiss on top of the head, trying not to feel too self-conscious with Madeline sitting at the table. Then he walked into the bedroom. He didn’t think he’d be able to sleep. Not after being woken up by that scream. Surprisingly, however, he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep almost immediately.

* * *

Shawn sat quietly watching the end credits roll for the ‘Brady Bunch’. He had heard his Mom and Carlton talking at the table. He doubted either one of them realized he could hear them. They had been keeping their voices low. Listening to the past week through Carlton’s eyes had made him realize exactly how much Carlton cared for him. The only other person that had stood by Shawn when things got rough was Gus. And he had a feeling even Gus wouldn’t have been able to deal with this.

Standing up, Shawn went over and joined his Mom at the table. She smiled at him as he sat down and he reflexively smiled back.

“Are you feeling a little better now, Goose?”

Shawn nodded, “Aside from having my own movie studio in my head showing horror flicks 24-7, giving a go at breaking Randy Gardner’s record for not sleeping, puking my guts out all over my bed, and being the most difficult boyfriend ever, I’m doing just fine.”

His Mom continued watching him with that same smile, “Is that what you are? Carlton’s boyfriend?”

Shawn looked at her blankly for a moment. Out of everything he just said, she focused on that?

“Well, we’ve done all the things boyfriend’s do.” He said finally, “We’ve kissed, held hands, done the funky chicken. Oh, and I’ve also kept him up nights because I keep getting triggered into flashbacks of that whole kid getting shot thing.” He shrugged, “Yeah, I think that qualifies as me being his boyfriend.”

He knew that a lot of people would have though he was trying to be snarky, but his Mom knew him better than that.

“Is this relatively new?” she asked without even batting an eye.

“I’ve liked him since I first met him.” Shawn said, “He only started liking me back recently.” He paused before saying, “Huh. Maybe I should have had a complete breakdown earlier.”

“Shawn.” His Mom chided.

Shawn’s smile faded as he looked up at her, “I need help with this, Mom. It’s tearing me apart and I don’t know how to stop it.”

She reached over and patted his hand, “That’s what I’m here to do, Honey.”

“How, Mom? How do you stop something like this with someone like me?”

“Well, Sweetheart, to be honest I don’t know right now. There’s not a lot of research that’s been done on PTSD and eidetic memory. But I will figure it out.”

“I don’t have PTSD, Mom.” Shawn said, “It’s not like I’ve lived through mass genocide or something.”

“Oh, Shawn,” his Mom tsked, “PTSD isn’t limited to atrocities like that. What you saw was traumatic. And unfortunately, with your memory and hyper observational skills you saw it in a way other people didn’t. I talked to your Dad after you called me.” Shawn tried no to roll his eyes at that, “Most of the officers that were there have made additional appointments passed the required ones with the department psychologist.”

“You’re starting to sound like Lassie, Mom.” Shawn said, “I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. I’m not a cop.”

“No, you’re not.” She agreed, “But you are human. Maybe a human with some pretty amazing skills, but still just human.”

His Mom stood up and walked over to her purse, which was sitting on the counter. Digging around in it momentarily, she extracted a small pill bottle. Coming back to the table she sat down, sliding the pill bottle over to Shawn.

“I want you to take one of these and try and get some sleep.”

Fear immediately settled over Shawn like a blanket. “I’m pretty sure I just proved sleeping is not very healthy for me right now.”

“These are designed to help with the nightmares.” His Mom said, “They're actually in clinical trials right now to help children who suffer from night terrors. I have a friend that’s part of the study and she managed to get me some. I kind of figured they’d come in handy.”

Shawn picked up the bottle, rattling the pills back and forth. “What if they don’t work?”

“I think they will. Take one now and we can talk until you get sleepy.”

“I passed sleepy five days ago.” Shawn said, “Passed exhaustion three days ago.” He looked at her wearily, “What comes after exhausted? Cause I’m pretty sure I passed that two days ago.”

“Then take one and go lay down.” His Mom replied implacably.

Shawn signed and opened the bottle, shaking one of the pills into his hand. For a moment, he only stared at it, small and white, in his hand. He was afraid to take it and try and sleep. But he was even more afraid to not take it and try to sleep.

Sighing, he swallowed it dry and then gagged a little at the bitter taste that trailed down his throat. “Holy guacamole that’s disgusting.”

His Mom looked non-plussed, “That would be why most people prefer to take them with water.”

Shawn stood up and kissed his Mom on the cheek. “Thank you, Mom. For everything.”

She smiled and squeezed his hand, “I love you, Shawn.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

Trying to control his racing heart, Shawn walked into the bedroom and lay down next to Carlton for the second time that night and closed his eyes.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Carlton woke up slowly, aware first of the sunshine warming his face and turning the darkness behind his eyelids reddish orange. Second, the smell of coffee reached him from the kitchen. He felt well rested for a change, something he had definitely needed. Knowing Madeline was here had allowed him to get that without trying to keep one ear on Shawn and he was more than grateful.

Opening his eyes, he looked beside him to find Shawn, curled onto his side. His breathing was long and steady, the patter of someone in deep sleep. Smiling to himself, he eased out of bed and walked into the bathroom.

After relieving himself, he took a quick shower and then walked into the kitchen for some coffee. Madeline was sitting at the table reading through some papers. Filling up a coffee cup, Carlton said, “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Madeline returned, “How did you sleep?”

“Great.” Carlton said, sitting down across from her. “How’d you get him to sleep?”

“I cheated a little.” She replied, “I gave him some medicine that’s currently in trial.”

“Is that safe?” Carlton asked worriedly.

“Wouldn’t be in clinical trials if it wasn’t.” She said, “Don’t worry, Carlton. I’m not going to do something dangerous to him.”

“Well,” Carlton said sipping his coffee, “He’s sure sleeping solid enough now.”

“It’s going to be much easier to treat him if he’s not sleep-deprived.”

Carlton was silent a moment before asking, “How are you going to treat him?”

“Well,” Madeline said with a sigh. She stacked the papers up into a neat pile and took a sip of her coffee, “I’m not completely sure yet. Honestly, my plan is to just start starting with him about it. Probably try and get him to tell me things about what happened. I want you to be with him for this, Carlton. You’ve been managing to bring him back when he slips.”

“Okay.” Carlton said, “You think it’ll cause him to have an episode?”

“Undoubtedly.” Madeline said, “I think it might be critical that he does.”

“What?” Carlton was alarmed at her words, “Why? Isn’t the goal to stop him from having them?”

“Yes and no.” Madeline said, “You have to remember, Shawn is wired different than almost anybody else. This incident will always be with him and it will always be as clear as if it happened yesterday.”

Carlton shook his head, “I just can’t imagine how that would be.”

He took a long draw from his coffee cup and was standing up to get a refill when Shawn ambled into the kitchen. He still looked drawn and pale, but his eyes were more alert than they had been all week.

“Morning.” Shawn greeted.

“Morning.” Madeline and Carlton echoed back.

“You want some coffee?” Carlton asked.

“Yes, coffee, please.” Shawn said sitting down.

“Did you sleep good, Goose?” Madeline asked as Carlton poured the coffee.

“I did.” Shawn replied, “I don’t know what that little pill was but it worked like C. Thomas Howell in the Outsiders.”

Carlton set a full cup of coffee in front of Shawn, refilled Madeline’s, and then sat back down with his own cup.

“What’s on the agenda for the day?” Shawn asked.

“I thought we’d just talk for a little bit.” Madeline said, “Maybe after breakfast.”

“Ooh, breakfast!” Shawn exclaimed, “You’ve got to taste Lassie’s cooking, Mom. He’s the Ratatouille of scrambled eggs.”

Carlton was somewhat encouraged by Shawn’s verbalization. He sounded closer to his old self than he had since Carlton had come here. He was still far from normal, but at least the sleep he had gotten had led to some improvement.

“Are you saying you want scrambled eggs for breakfast?” Carlton asked, sipping his coffee.

“Well, duh.” Shawn rolled his eyes.

Carlton smirked and stood up, “Since you asked so nicely.”

* * *

Shawn ate his breakfast slowly but trying not to be obvious about it. He knew what his Mom wanted to talk about, what she wanted to do, and he wasn’t sure he was ready. If he talked about it, if he tried to talk through it, he would relive it. He didn’t want to relive it. He didn’t want to see those faces; Cops: tense and angry. Hostage: Pale and terrified. Crazy man: Black rage and hate. Child: Innocent and…

“Shawn!” Carlton’s voice. Shawn turned his head. Carlton’s face: Angry and desperate as he shouted into his radio.

“Shawn!”

Blinking, Shawn saw the faces disappearing, fading to the back as he focused on Carlton’s voice. Someone had a hold of his hand. Focusing on the voice and the touch he was able to force the faces all the way back until the kitchen reformed around him.

Drawing a shaky breath, he looked around. Carlton was leaning across the table speaking to him. His Mom had taken ahold of his hand and was gripping it hard.

“I’m okay.” Shawn said quietly.

Carlton hesitated a moment before sitting back down and Shawn looked at him, trying to ignore the fact he was starting to feel ashamed at the frequency of these episodes.

“It’s okay, Shawn.” His Mom said, apparently reading him quite easily.

“No, it’s really not.” Shawn replied feeling a spark of anger. He looked at her. “It’s not okay that I’ve basically turned Lassie into some kind of slave because I can’t control my fucking mind. It’s not okay that I had to interrupt your life because I can’t handle something.”

“Knock that shit off, Spencer.” Carlton snapped. The anger in his tone forced Shawn to look at him. “We’re not going down this road again.”

Wordlessly, Shawn looked across the table at him. Thunderclouds were brewing on his face and his lips were pressed tight together in his trademark frown. The suddenness of Carlton’s anger extinguished his own in the blink of an eye. Weariness took its place and his shoulders sagged, “I’m sorry.”

The thunderclouds disappeared from Carlton’s face as well, “We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t want to be, Shawn. I’m a Lassiter and we don’t run when we find something worth fighting for. And, believe it or not, Shawn, you’re worth fighting for.”

Shawn managed a weak smile, “Bet you never thought you’d say that when you met me.”

“To say the least.” Carlton agreed, turning to his plate of scrambled eggs.

* * *

After the breakfast dishes were done, the three of them adjourned to the living room where Carlton and Shawn sat on the couch and Madeline pulled a chair up to sit in front of Shawn. Shawn tried to steady his breathing as he sat there. Every muscle in his body wanted to get up and pace, but with a reserve he wasn’t even aware he had, he forced himself to stay seated.

He wanted to take Carlton’s hand but hesitated. Even in his agitated state he was worried the gesture would make Carlton uncomfortable in front of his Mom. To his relief and surprise, Carlton took ahold of his hand. It was a hesitant move at first, but the grip was solid and comforting. Shawn sighed inwardly and felt a minute slowing of his racing heart.

“Okay, Shawn,” his Mom said, scooting her chair closer until her knees were almost touching his, “Do you remember how I got you to find Sarah Chaney hanging upside down on the monkey bars when Zack Carlson beat you up?”

“Gee, I’m not sure.” Shawn dead-panned, “That was an awfully long time ago.”

“Shawn.” Carlton said from beside him. There was a warning in his tone that Shawn had heard many times over the past few years. It was subdued slightly, but somehow hearing ‘Shawn’ instead of ‘Spencer’ made it seem more threatening and the message was well received.

“Yes, I remember.” He said quietly.

“Okay.” His Mom said, “We’re going to do something very similar, but much more in depth. I’m going to walk you through that memory. That’s why I want Carlton here. You respond to him when you unexpectedly re-live it. Now, I’m going to warn you: There’s a good chance that we’re going to have to do this more than a few times, but I need you to be able to control these episodes before we can start working on the PTSD.”

Shawn stared at the floor for several long moments. More than anything else, he wanted to get up, walk out the front door, get on his bike, and just go. To just run like he always did. Screw the memories, screw his Mom, and screw Carlton. Get the hell out of Dodge and not look back.

He fought the urge. He didn’t want to run anymore. For once in his life he had something to stick around for. And that something was sitting on the couch next to him and holding his hand. As sappy as it sounded, he wanted to be with Carlton. To wake up next to him in the morning and go to be with him at night. He wanted to mess with him at work and he wanted to take away the stresses that he seen on Carlton’s face during the really tough cases. He wanted to kiss him and touch him in all the right places and make him understand how much he loved him.

Sighing, he looked up at his Mom and said, “Okay. Let’s do it.”

“Close your eyes.” His Mom said.

Shawn did, feeling slightly claustrophobic at the darkness behind his eyelids. Focusing on taking long, slow breaths, he waited.

“Okay, Shawn.” His Mom said, “You’re in Carlton’s car and he’s just pulled up to the scene. What do you see?”

“There are three cruisers already there.” Shawn said, “And there are more coming. I can hear two more sirens coming in from opposite directions and there’s an ambulance siren further off.” Shawn could feel adrenaline start coursing through him as he again felt the knot of fear he had felt taking this scene in for the first time. “The suspect is in the check cashing store. He hasn’t come out at this point. There’s already a crowd of gawkers gathering. Buzz is trying to keep them away.”

“How many people do you see in the crowd of onlookers?” His Mom asked.

Shawn paused. In his mind’s eye he turned to look at the crowd as Buzz tells them to please stand back for their own safety. He counts them, “Seventeen.”

“What can you tell me about those seventeen people?”

“There’s four couples. One is an older couple, probably in their seventies. Two of them are younger, late twenties, early thirties maybe. The fourth is just a couple kids, high school age. The boy has some weird nobility issues. He’s standing slightly in front of the girl like he’s protecting her from something. If he really wants to protect her, he should get her away from there.” Shawn feels his mind accelerating in the memory, fast forwarding to that glint of sun on the iPod as he says, “It’s not safe. It’s not…” He trails off as the fast forward slows and the Shawn that exists in his mind finds himself once again flattened against Carlton’s car, seeing that wink of light, knowing what comes next.

“No!” Shawn yelled, “No, stop!”

Somebody was pulling his arm and he faintly heard a voice calling his name. it sounded like Carlton, but it couldn’t be. Carlton was next to him yelling into the radio. But it was Carlton. Carlton saying his name with some urgency to it. He looked beside him again. The car was gone. Carlton was sitting next to him on the couch, both hands now holding Shawn’s.

“Damn-it.” Shawn cursed, drawing a shaky breath.

“It’s okay.” His Mom said, “You did well. Take a minute to relax a little bit and we’ll go again.”

Shawn took several deep breaths, using more techniques his Mom had taught him. They didn’t work nearly as well for this, but well enough to bring his heart rate down to something less than a full out gallop. After a long silence, he nodded and closed his eyes. “Okay.”

“You’re in Carlton’s car.” His Mom said again, “Just pulling up to the scene. Tell me about the buildings you see.”

“It’s mostly a commercial area. There’s the check cashing place where the gunman is hiding. Next door there’s a 24 hour mini-mart called Mr. Edd’s. It has the silhouette of a horse’s head on the sign. On the other side there’s a pawn shop.” Shawn paused a moment, looking at the pawn shop, “The name is hard to see. It’s so small and totally non-descript compared to all the flashing neon advertising what they buy and sell. Nan’s Pawn Shop. Apparently, Nan doesn’t have the same kind of humor as Wilber over there at Mr. Edd’s.

“The next two shops are empty with signs that read for sale or rent. The contact phone number is the same for both shops though, so either it’s a real estate agency or they were originally connected somehow.” He paused again, zooming in on the first sale or lease sign. “Real estate. The agent left a small packet of their cards in a little holder under one of the signs.

“There’s an alley after that…”

 _Not just any alley_ his mind whispered, _it’s THE alley. The one the kid is going to be coming down._ Not going to be…is. Shawn found himself against the side of Carlton’s car again. He once again found his eyes drawn to that flash in the sunlight. The boy was looking down at the iPod, not seeing what was going on at the end of the alley’s sidewalk.

Shawn shook his head _no no no no_.

“Shawn, stop.” Carlton demanded.

Shawn looked back at Carlton yelling into his radio.

“Focus on me.”

Shawn looked the other way, the living room once again dissolving into focus. He locked eyes with Carlton, fighting through the confusion of the change from memory to reality.

“Focus.” Carlton repeated, holding his eyes steady and strong.

Frustrated and angry, Shawn slammed his fist down on the arm of the couch. “This is never going to work, Mom. I can’t get it to stop fast-forwarding.”

“I told you it’s going to take some time, Shawn.” His Mom replied.

Feeling, and sounding he was sure, petulant, Shawn said, “I don’t want it to take time. I want it to fucking stop.”

“Go get yourself some cold water.” His Mom said, “Let me talk to Carlton for a minute.”

Shawn frowned, “Going to tell him he better run while he has a chance because the guy he picked for a boyfriend is headed for the loony bin?”

“Shawn.” She said in that tone he remembered so well from childhood. The one that said _I’m your mother and you need to trust me so do what I say without any backtalk_.

Huffing, Shawn got up and walked out of the living room.

* * *

Carlton watched Shawn as he disappeared into the bedroom and then looked at Madeline.

“The problem here,” she said, “is once he starts heading toward the actual shooting in his head, he doesn’t hear me anymore. But he still responds to you.”

Unsure of where she was headed, Carlton asked, “Did you want me to leave?”

“Oh, heavens no.” Madeline said, “I think that might actually be dangerous for him. No, what I want you to do is guide him through this yourself.”

“What?” Carlton responded, feeling a spark of fear, “I don’t know anything about this stuff. That’s why I wanted him to call you.”

“I’ll be right here to help you if you need me.” Madeline said, “But I think you’ll do just fine. You saw what I was doing. Just get him to give us a picture of everything that was around him.”

“I know what was around him.” Carlton said, “I was there.”

Madeline shook her head, “You can’t see it like he can see it.”

Carlton sighed. She had him there. Up to now, he had no idea there were seventeen people in the throng of bystanders. Nor did he even realize there were two empty shops on the same block as the check cashing store.

“I think with you leading the questions, when he starts to skip ahead, you can make him come back and continue building the picture.”

“What will this do?” Carlton asked.

“Well, I’m hoping that there’s something in there that I can train him to focus on instead of letting his mind take him where it wants to go.”

“Like dandelion yellow underwear with a rose on it?”

Madeline smiled, “He told you the story.”

Carlton nodded.

“It’s similar, but I think we’re going to need something a little better than that.”

“If you think it will help him,” Carlton said, “I’ll do my best.”

Madeline nodded and called, “Okay, Shawn.” To Carlton, she said, “Trade seats with me.”

Carlton had just sat down again when Shawn came back in the living room. He saw Shawn take note of the fact Carlton was now going to be seated across from him and his Mom would be seated next to him.

“Changing the line-up, huh.” He said as he resumed his place on the couch.

“I think this will help.” Madeline said.

Shawn sighed, “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Carlton leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and taking Shawn’s hand in his. “Okay. You’re in my car pulling up to the scene.”

Shawn closed his eyes and Carlton felt the grip on his hand strengthen.

“Go back to the group that Buzz is holding back. Tell me more about them.”

Aside from the four couples, the rest are singles. There’s a middle-aged woman. She comes from money. There’s a string of pearls around her neck and her wedding ring is at least 3 carats. She’s holding a designer bag with a little dog in it.”

“What kind of dog?” Carlton asked, flicking his eyes toward Madeline for confirmation he was doing it right. She nodded and he focused on Shawn again.

“Yorkie.” Shawn replied, “With a little pink bow tied on top of its head. Must be a girl.”

“Who else?” Carlton asked.

“Four guys.” Shawn’s head turned as if looking at something else in the memory, but his face said it wasn’t due to what he was referring to as fast-forwarding, “They’re construction workers from a project down on the next block.” He paused a moment, “Garrison’s Construction. ‘You need it, we’ll build it’. Huh, I wonder if they’d build that zip line for snacks at the office.”

Carlton forced himself not to laugh. Shawn had been talking about that zip line for months. “Who else?”

“There’s a couple guys in suits in the back. They don’t know each other or at least not well, but they both have the same ID badge hanging on the pocket of their suit coat so they must work in the same place.”

Trying to keep the description detailed, Carlton asked, “Can you see what the ID badges say?”

Shawn’s brow furrowed and even though his eyes were closed, they squinted, as if he was focusing on something that was hard to read. “No company name.” He said, “Just their names and a bar code. Justin Carson and Fredrick Nettlesworth.”

Carlton was astounded at what Shawn was doing. When they had first pulled up to the scene the only thing he could remember was focusing on the location of the perp and where the other officers were. He had seen the bystanders but after seeing that Buzz was keeping them back, he had dismissed them, focusing on the two bystanders that were in the check cashing store with the gunman.

After doing a quick calculation in his head, Carlton said, “What about the last two? You said there was seventeen.”

“One of them is a girl.” Shawn replied. He was silent a moment before saying, “She’s pregnant.” His voice was much quieter, “Probably six or seven months along.”

Carlton saw it was happening again. The muscles in Shawn’s face tensed and the grip he had on Carlton’s hand became almost vice-like.

“Bring him back.” Madeline said, “Bring him back to the pregnant woman.”

“Shawn, stop.” Carlton said, grasping at straws on what to say, “We’re looking at the pregnant woman. Control this, Shawn. Focus on the people, the pregnant woman. The perp is still in the store. Bring it back. Back, not forward. Come on, Shawn. Listen to what I’m telling you.”

There was a full-scale war being fought in Shawn’s head. Carlton could see it. But unlike when his Mom had been doing the guiding, he was still hearing Carlton’s voice and trying to obey.

“Go back.” Carlton urged, “What was the pregnant woman wearing? How old is she? What color is her hair?” Carlton saw Madeline nodding as he continued, “Go back to her. I want to know if she’s wearing a ring. What kind of ring is it?”

Shawn inhaled deeply and stammered out, “She’s…she’s wearing a…a dress. It’s…cobalt blue with white buttons running down the front.” His speech was getting stronger and his grip on Carlton’s hand had lessened a little bit.

Carlton felt a rush of relief. He had successfully brought him back to where he wanted. He saw Madeline mouth, “Bring him back to now.”

“Shawn,” Carlton said, “I want you to come back to where you are now. Let the memory go.”

Shawn opened his eyes. He looked at Carlton silently for several moments before saying, “It worked.”

“To the extent that we know how to keep you where we want you in the memory.” Madeline said, “There’s still a lot of work to do.”

“Oh, thanks for the encouragement, Debbie Downer.” Shawn replied.

Carlton could see the sweat that had popped out on Shawn’s forehead. It had been a rough forty-five minutes, according to the clock in the kitchen, but Carlton could see that despite his words, Shawn was feeling some relief. For the first time, he had successfully gone into the memory and was able to control it, even though Carlton had to help him.

“Let’s call it good for today.” Madeline said. I promised Henry I’d meet him for lunch.”

Carlton saw a shadow pass across Shawn’s face. Apparently, Madeline saw it too because she said, “He’s worried about you, Shawn.”

“Sure.” Shawn replied, “Worried that a complete breakdown will reflect badly on him.”

Madeline didn’t bother to respond. Instead, she got up, kissed Shawn on top of the head and said, “I’ll be back later.”

After she had left, Carlton sat down next to Shawn. He dropped his hand over Shawn’s. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but that was pretty amazing.”

Shawn shrugged. “Mom trained me a long time ago to go into kind of a self-hypnotic state. I don’t usually have to do it that way, but in some situations I do.”

“What’s she looking for?”

Shawn shrugged. “She’ll know it when she finds it.”


	14. Chapter Fourteen

That night, Carlton lay on his side watching Shawn’s profile. Shawn was laying on his back, hands folded over his stomach. He had taken another one of the pill Madeline had brought but his eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. Carlton felt a sudden rush of wanting as he watched him, thinking about what it had felt like when Shawn had touched him and spoken his name in a voice that was so low and so full of need.

As if reading his thoughts, Shawn turned to face him. In the pale light of the streetlamp outside the window, Carlton could see the same wanting on Shawn’s face. He reached out, brushing his thumb gently over those talented lips, across his jawline, and ending with his hand cupping the back of Shawn’s neck. He leaned in, pulling Shawn to him at the same time and their lips met in a gentle kiss that quickly deepened.

Carlton let his hand drift along Shawn’s skin in a soft caress, his thumb brushing each of his ribs. As he reached the waistband of Shawn’s sweatpants, his fingers deftly slid underneath and he paused a moment, his palm massaging the flat plain of skin in front of the hip bone. Then, he moved on, his hand coming to a rest on Shawn’s perfectly rounded cheek. He kneaded the flesh there, the tips of his fingers occasionally slipping into the space between his cheeks.

Shawn moaned into the kiss when Carlton began to explore the tightness of his entrance, rubbing the muscles with his index finger. When Shawn’s hips began to move in sync with Carlton’s ministrations, Carlton felt a heated thrill race through him. He was causing this. He was pleasuring Shawn. He continued the motion, occasionally pressing against the opening as he did, and broke the kiss. He raised himself up enough to find Shawn’s neck with his lips, alternating kissing and gently biting.

Shawn moaned again and Carlton could feel the vibration under his lips. When he brought his hand back to the waistband of the sweatpants and started to push them down, Shawn rolled onto his back and raised his hips. Without the confines of the sweatpants, Shawn’s length sprang up. After pushing them completely off, Carlton ran his hand over it, slowly and deliberately.

Shawn gasped as Carlton ran his thumb over the head, massaging the small slit before releasing it to cup his balls. Gently, he kneaded the balls and allowed the palm of his hand to push against the base of Shawn’s length.

“Fuck, Lassie.” Shawn hissed as his hips bucked into Carlton’s hand.

Shawn reached up and withdrew the bottle of lube from under the pillow. He reached down, pulling Carlton’s hand away and putting the little bottle into it. Carlton looked down at it and then looked at Shawn in confusion. Shawn’s eyes rested on his, pupils dilated in lust and full of a trust so pure it washed over Carlton in a slow warm wave.

“I want to feel you in me, Lassie.” He said softly.

Carlton stared a moment, suddenly feeling unsure. He wanted to, the heat below his waist throbbed almost painfully at the thought of feeling Shawn around him, tight and hot. But what if he hurt him? Shawn had experience and the simple ease that he had entered with seemed almost natural. Carlton didn’t have experience. None at all.

Shawn smiled at him and raised a hand to rest it on Carlton’s cheek, “You can do it, Lassie.”

Carlton nodded. He wasn’t as adept at handling the bottle as Shawn was and he had to use both hands to open it, but he got it open and slicked up his fingers. Setting the bottle aside for a moment, he positioned himself lower on the bed. When he took Shawn’s length into his mouth, Shawn hissed again, his muscles tensing underneath Carlton.

Slowly, moving up and down that hardness, feeling it twitch under his tongue, Carlton moved his lubricated fingers down between Shawn’s legs. Shawn spread his knees, allowing Carlton full access. Carlton pressed his middle finger against that tight ring of muscle, this time applying more pressure until his finger slipped inside. Shawn’s hips bucked under him and his finger slid in down to his third knuckle. He wriggled it back and forth in the tightness as his tongue explored the bundle of nerves at the tip of Shawn’s cock.

“Yes, Lassie.” Shawn murmured, his hand reaching down to card through Carlton’s hair.

Carlton felt a small lump of some kind against his finger and he rubbed against it, curious. The effect was instantaneous. Shawn’s back arched and his fingers fisted in Carlton’s hair. His cry was wordless, but low enough to not be heard through the closed bedroom door.

Realizing this was what Shawn had been touching in him, Carlton began to pump his finger in and out slowly, dragging against that small lump and taking Shawn as far down his throat as he could. He could feel Shawn trembling underneath him, muscles taught. When the circle of muscles had loosened a little, Carlton added another finger and massaged the perineum with his thumb as he moved them in and out.

Shawn suddenly pulled back on his hair, forcing him to release him. Carlton stilled his hand, realizing Shawn was stopping himself from cumming. After a few moments, his hand guided Carlton back down. He took him into his mouth again and added a third finger. After a few more minutes of feeling Shawn writhing underneath him, Carlton pulled his fingers out and released Shawn from his mouth.

He found the bottle of lube and after nestling a pillow under Shawn’s hips, he used it to slick himself. He tried not to notice the faint bruising across both cheeks of Shawn's ass. He was sure if they were still sore, Shawn wouldn't have enjoyed him massaging that area as much as he had. He applied what was left of the lube on his hand to Shawn and then lined himself up. He went in slow, relishing the feel as he sank into that tight heat.

“God, Shawn.” He whispered as Shawn’s hands came up to rest on his hips.

He parted Shawn’s knees as far as they could go and began to thrust in and out, finding that by shifting his angle slightly, he could drag past that special pleasure spot with each thrust. He watched mesmerized as each thrust caused Shawn’s cock to jump.

“That’s it, Lassie.” Shawn gasped, “Show me you mean it.”

Carlton began incrementally increasing the force of each thrust until he was grunting at the end of each downward stroke. The pleasure was building, the low heat coiling around and through him. He reached down, taking Shawn in his hand and stroking it in matching rhythm with his thrusts. Shawn’s hands clamped down on his hips and he felt the cock in his hand began to pulse as Shawn cried out a wordless sound of ecstasy. Carlton felt Shawn suddenly tighten around his cock as the orgasm rocked through him, almost tightly enough to stop his motion. With a final, hard thrust, Carlton buried himself, feeling his release into that tight heat. It seemed to go on forever as the pulse of his release matched the pulse of Shawn’s.

When he was completely spent, he dropped beside Shawn, breathing hard and feeling drained but well satiated. Shawn kissed him softly and he was still tasting that sweet kiss when his eyes slipped closed.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Carlton woke up the next morning to find the space beside him empty. He could hear voice drifting in from the kitchen through the bedroom door, which was slightly ajar. The smell of coffee wafted in and the promise of caffeine got him moving. After relieving himself in the bathroom, he walked out into the kitchen where Shawn and Madeline were sitting at the table, and poured himself a cup of the dark brew.

“Morning.” He greeted as he sat down. He looked at Shawn, “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good.” Shawn replied, “I woke up once a little anxious but couldn’t remember why and managed to drop right back into sawing hedges.”

“Sawing log.” Madeline said sipping her coffee.

“I’ve…” Shawn started.

“Heard it both ways.” Carlton finished with an exaggerated eye roll.

“You too?” Shawn shot back without missing a beat.

Carlton couldn’t help but smile. After two solid nights of sleep he could see the old Shawn showing through even more. With any luck he’d be back to his completely irritating self soon.

“What’s the plans for today, mi Madre?” Shawn asked looking over at Madeline.

“Well, I thought we’d walk through the memory again after breakfast.” Madeline said.

Shawn nodded and Carlton could see he didn’t like the idea, but at the same time, it didn’t seem as if it was going to spiral him into another episode like it did yesterday.

“What’s everybody in the mood for?” He asked sipping his coffee.

“Pancakes.” Shawn replied immediately, “Pineapple, like last time.”

“One of these days you’re going to turn into a pineapple.” Carlton shot back.

“Only if I’m topped with tooti fruity ice cream.” Shawn countered.

“Yuck, Shawn.” Madeline grimaced, “That sounds absolutely disgusting.”

“Au contrite, Mother of mine.” Shawn said. Nobody corrected him this time. “It is a veritable avalanche of fruity pineappliciousness.”

Madeline waved him off as Carlton stood up and started breakfast. He marveled over the simple domestic quality of the moment. It felt _right_ somehow in a way he’d never experienced before. He could get used to this pretty easy if he wasn’t careful. Because when Shawn was better and he finally had to go home, those lonely nights he spent by himself with a glass of scotch and a pile of old case files would become tortuous if he wasn’t.

_It doesn’t have to be that way,_ his mind told him.

But he didn’t think he was ready to come out yet. Part of him was still terrified at the implications of that process. Part of him didn’t care though, and that part was actually starting to outweigh the part that did .

Within ten minutes, he had made a platter of pineapple pancakes and a platter of buttermilk. Shawn had set the table and put out the syrup. Carlton put the pancakes on the table and sat down. He was about halfway through his first serving when he noticed Shawn’s fork pause about halfway between his plate and his mouth. He glanced over, seeing the distant, glazed look in his eyes.

“Shawn?” he asked, putting his fork down.

There was no response. Putting his hand on Shawn’s arm he said firmly, “Shawn!”

Shawn twitched, but otherwise didn’t respond. His face was twisting into one of horror. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Madeline had paused in her own breakfast and was watching Shawn’s face intently.

“Spencer!” Carlton snapped, using his Head Detective voice.

Shawn’s eyes flicked toward his voice, but that glazed look remained.

“Come on, Spencer.” Carlton snapped again, squeezing his arm a lot less gently that he wanted.

Shawn blinked and that glaze started to fade. Carlton could see him coming back to the present.

“Come on, Shawn.” He urged, gentler now that he had broken through, “You’re okay.”

That glassy, distant look evaporated completely, replaced almost immediately by anger. Carlton headed off the impending outburst by squeezing Shawn’s arm hard and saying simply, “Don’t.”

Shawn stared at him and Carlton could see he had clenched both hands into tight fists. He simply held Shawn’s gaze, steadily until the fists slowly uncurled themselves and he saw a slight relaxation in the younger man’s shoulders. When Shawn wordlessly began eating again, Carlton turned back to his own breakfast. He could feel Madeline’s eyes on him as he started eating again. He ignored it though, trying not to see the analytical look that was set on her face.

* * *

After breakfast, they sat down in the living room. Carlton was getting ready to sit down across from Shawn, but Madeline stopped him.

“Why don’t you go ahead and sit next to him.”

“Okay.” Carlton said, sitting down next to Shawn. He noted the fear that cranked up on Shawn’s face almost immediately and without even thinking, he dropped his hand over Shawn’s, squeezing gently.

Madeline leaned forward after sitting down in the chair facing Shawn.

“Okay, Shawn.” She said without preamble, “Close your eyes.”

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Shawn closed his eyes. Carlton felt Shawn’s hand curl into a half fist underneath his as if he wanted to clench it tightly but was trying to stay relaxed.

“You’ve just arrived on scene.” Madeline said, “Carlton stops and you both get out of the car. I want you to look down the street. Look at the traffic that’s been stopped behind the pedestrians that buzz is holding back.”

Shawn’s head turned and his eyes moved underneath his eyelids. It was the only part of this that unnerved Carlton a little bit. It wasn’t quite as bad as watching a sleep walker, but still unnerving.

“There’s a line of 10.” Shawn said, “There’s a blue Honda, a grey SUV Cadillac, light blue Corvette, black Ford Explorer, white box truck from Luigi’s Pizza and Pasta, another box truck, black once, I think, but now mostly rust. There’s no name on the box. There’s two silver Jeep Renegades that appear to be traveling together, a green Renault Alliance with a black hood, red door on the driver’s side, and primer black door on the driver’s side rear door. Last car is a black stretch limo.”

Carlton again found himself awed at the ease with which Shawn was able to recite information on details he himself had never even known existed.

“Look at the black Ford Explorer.” Madeline said, “Tell me about the occupants.”

Carlton glanced at her. She was being oddly specific about where she was leading him today. Much more so than the day before. Her expression gave nothing away, however, so Carlton turned his attention back to Shawn.

“The driver is a man. He looks really agitated.” Shawn was silent a moment and Carlton found himself watching for signs that he was fast-forwarding. There was none, however, and eventually Shawn continued, “He’s wearing a dress shirt but the cuffs aren’t buttoned and is tie is loosened. Hairs kind of standing up like he’s been running his hand through it.” A second’s pause, “Huh, yeah. Just like that.

“His wife or girlfriend,” He looks like he squints a moment, “I can’t tell if there’s a ring on his finger, she looks like she’s sick or in pain or something. He’s leaning against the passenger door holding the dash. He keeps looking at her. He’s worried. He’s holding her free hand and talking to her.”

“Keep focused on them.” Madeline said when he stopped, “Keep talking.”

“Now he’s looking behind him and in front of him. His agitation is increasing. He’s leaning out of the window and yelling at the cops manning the roadblock. His wife…she’s screaming or something…her…her head…”

Carlton seen his face changing, the fear flowing across it in waves.

“Spencer.” He said sharply, “Stay with her. With them. Why is she screaming? What’s the husband doing now? Don’t change your focus. You keep telling me about them.”

Shawn had gone rigid, his free hand and the one under Carlton’s hand had balled into tight fists and Carlton could see tendons standing out in his neck.

“Spencer.” He snapped, “What’s the husband doing now?”

“He’s…he’s talking to…uhm…Officer Sanchez. He keeps uhm, pointing to his wife.”

Carlton felt his stomach unclench as Shawn’s speech pattern smoothed out and the fists slowly uncurled. He looked back to Madeline who had lapsed into silence as Carlton worked to bring Shawn back from his fast-forward.

When Shawn’s speech had leveled out, Madeline picked it up again. Carlton took his eyes off of Shawn to look at her. Her face still held no clue as to what she had up her sleeve, but she was completely focused on Shawn’s face. He wanted to ask her, but he didn’t want to interrupt. Whatever she was doing was apparently important.

“What’s Officer Sanchez’s reaction to the husband?” Madeline asked.

“He’s concerned.” Shawn replied promptly, almost looking thoughtful. “With everything else that’s going on, he’s suddenly more worried about the couple in the Explorer.”

Carlton saw Madeline smile and a look of relief seem to spread over her face.

“Why?” she asked, “What’s happening that’s so important?”

Carlton knew at that point Madeline already knew the answer to the question. She was simply waiting for Shawn to say it. He looked back at Shawn, noting the furrowed brow. It wasn’t a look of fear, he wasn’t fast-forwarding. He seemed to be intently studying the memory in his head.

“She’s in labor.” He almost whispered, and there was something in his tone that Carlton had never heard before. “He’s upset because he can’t get out of the traffic to get her to the hospital. Officer Sanchez is getting in the Explorer with her. I think…I think she must be really close to delivering.”

A shadow passed over his face and Carlton spoke before he could stop himself, “What’s wrong?”

“The gunman just came out of the store.” Shawn said, his head turning the other way as if looking.

Madeline signaled for Carlton to be quiet, not unkindly, and spoke to Shawn, “Don’t look at him, look at the Explorer.”

Shawn’s head turned back.

“What’s happening?”

“The husband is pacing and Officer Sanchez’s partner is trying to calm him down. I can’t really see Officer Sanchez, just his back and feet. He’s delivering the baby.” Shawn’s tone softened, “He’s delivering it right there in the SUV.”

When his head suddenly snapped back in the other direction, it was all Carlton could do to not say anything. He bit his tongue and looked at Madeline, but she had seen the reaction too.

“No, Shawn.” She said, “Do not look back that way. You look at the Explorer.”

Shawn turned again. If it hadn’t been as serious of a matter as it was, it may have seemed comical. For a moment, he looked almost like he was watching a ping pong match.

“What’s happening in the Explorer, Shawn?” Madeline asked.

“It’s…she’s…but the boy…”

“Don’t look at the boy.” Madeline said firmly, “Look at the Explorer.”

Carlton could see the war Shawn was fighting. He had unfortunately seen it one too many times lately.

“What’s happening in the Explorer?” She asked.

“Somebody’s handing a blanket in.” Shawn replied, his voice was tight and unsteady, “Officer Sanchez took it and he’s getting out of…” Shawn jerked as if somebody had set off an M80 right next to his ear and Carlton could see tears start running from the corners of his eyes.

Madeline looked at Carlton, signaling him to take over.

“What’s Officer Sanchez doing?” he asked.

“He’s, uhm, he’s getting out of the…the Explorer.” Shawn whispered, “He has the baby in his arms but…the boy…he’s…”

“Don’t look at the boy, Shawn.” Carlton said, but his tone was much softer in his understanding, “Don’t look at the death. Look at the life.”

Shawn was silent.

“This is how you need to control the memory, Shawn.” Madeline said, “Do you understand that?”

Shawn nodded slowly, tears still tracking down his cheeks.

“Okay, Shawn. Open your eyes now. You did very well.”

Shawn opened his eyes and looked from Madeline to Carlton. Carlton moved his arm to settle around Shawn’s neck and that’s all it took for Shawn to grab a hold of Carlton, burying his head in the older man’s chest and crying. Carlton held him, stroking his hair and feeling amazed that he didn’t feel more self-conscious about doing it in front of Madeline.

* * *

“You knew what you were taking him in to see this morning.” Carlton said as Madeline set a coffee cup in front of him.

They were in the kitchen. Carlton had talked Shawn into laying down so they were alone at the moment.

“Yes.” Madeline replied, sitting down across from him. “When I had lunch with Henry yesterday, he told me about it. He thought it would be useful.”

“So now what happens? Is he just able to suddenly focus on that?”

“No. Not by a long shot.” Madeline sipped her coffee. “It’s a process. Eventually he will be able to. In the short term, it will give me something I can direct him to focus on if he starts to have an episode while we work on the rest of the issues this caused.”

“Like thinking he should have been able to stop it?”

Madeline nodded, “Among some others. But that’s a big one.” She smiled almost ruefully. “I knew how hard Henry pushed him, but Shawn, he seemed okay. I thought he let a lot of what Henry said bounce off of him. But then again, I thought he would be okay after the divorce and I missed that by a mile.”

“Will he be able to go back to being the psychic investigator he was before?” Carlton resisted the urge to air quote psychic, but the air quotes came out in his tone regardless.

“I think so.” Madeline said, “I think he’ll be ready to go back before I’m done.”

“Sounds like you’re expecting a bit of a long haul with it.”

“Long enough that I’m going to find a place to rent for a little while. I might do some consulting at some of the departments around here, but I haven’t really decided.” She was silent a moment before asking, “What about you?”

Carlton was startled, “What about me?”

“Well, you’ve managed to develop a relationship with Shawn since you’ve been here. Have you put any thought into how you’re going to handle that when you go back to work?”

Carlton sighed. He’d actually put a lot of thought into it, and it hadn’t gotten him any closer to knowing what that was.

“Shawn said he was okay with it if I didn’t want to tell anybody right away.” He said finally. He hesitated, considering his choice of words and Madeline was silent as she waited. “I don’t fell like that’s fair to him, though. I just…I’ve fought this whole thing for so long I don’t know how to just stop. I can’t stop myself from thinking other cops, other detectives, would see me as something less than what they see now.”

Madeline nodded encouragingly, “Go on.”

He glanced over at her, “Am I on your couch right now?”

She laughed, “Yes, you are. Does that make you nervous?”

Carlton frowned, “That wasn’t nice. You shouldn’t sneak up on a guy’s psyche when he’s not expecting it.”

That made her laugh harder. “You’re right, Carlton. But, since I already did, go on.”

Carlton was silent a moment. He was irritated that she had gotten him to open up so easily, but he wasn’t angry. And so, he genuinely debated on what he wanted to say next.

“I’m not sure I can work with Shawn the way we are now and not give it away. He used to irritate the crap out of me with all that shit he did, especially when it put him in danger. Now he’s going to irritate the crap out of me and scare the shit out of me at the same time.”

“Do you think having a relationship with him will make you more ineffective as a detective? Make you unable to solve cases that you could have solved before?”

“No.” Carlton said, “Of course I don’t.”

“So, if you continue to have the stellar record that you have right now, why do you think other officers would see you differently on that front?”

Carlton was silent.

“Look,” Madeline said, “I’m not going to sit here and tell you that absolutely no one will give you any grief for being gay. But to the people that matter? They’re not going to give a rat’s ass whether your dating a guy. Even if that guy is Shawn.”

Carlton studied her intently, considering her words.

“I can’t tell you to do it or not to do it.” She said, “I’m just giving you a little free advice.” She reached over and patted his hand.

“Thank.” He said as she got up to pour herself more coffee and refill his, “Speaking of work. When do you think it’s safe for me to go back? I’ve still got a few days on the two weeks I asked the Chief for, but I have a lot more banked I can draw from.”

“Let’s see where he’s at in a couple days. If we can keep him sleeping at night and able to keep himself from spiraling down too far when he’s triggered, you should be able to go back to work.”

Carlton nodded. “Okay.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the smaller chapters but I wanted to make a division between Carlton's POV and Shawn's.

Carlton sipped his coffee and asked, “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, it’s only been a couple of days since we gave him the key to getting through an episode. And it’s not working every time.”

Madeline refilled her coffee and sat down across from Carlton. It was just the two of them in the kitchen and the sun was barely peaking over the horizon. Shawn was still sleeping and Carlton kept his voice low even though he had closed the bedroom door.

“I think it’s our best next step.” Madeline said, “He’s going to have to do this himself sooner or later anyway. You’re supposed to go back to work tomorrow. I want to give him a shorter exposure of your absence today to make sure he’ll be able to handle it. If he can’t, we can discuss how much longer you should take before going back.”

Carlton took another sip of his coffee, thinking. Madeline was asking him to leave the house for about five hours. While he had been away on more than one occasion, the time-frames had been much shorter. He was pretty sure he hadn’t been away from the house for longer than 45 minutes to an hour since he had gotten here.

“You’ll call me if anything happens though, right?”

“Of course.” Madeline said, “But I’m fairly confident he’ll be okay. Even those episodes he has trouble pulling out of are still better than what they have been. I brought him out last night. That’s a huge improvement right there.”

Carlton was staring silently at his coffee as she spoke. Everything she said was true. And yet worry gnawed at him as he considered leaving. What if something happened and he couldn’t get back here fast enough?”

“Carlton?” Madeline said gently, causing him to look up at her, “I understand this is going to be hard on you, but you _have_ to be okay with it.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant, at least not fully, “I’m okay with it.” He said, “I want him to get better.”

She shook her head, “You’re not okay with it. You’re sitting there worried that he’s going to spiral if you’re not here.”

Carlton’s initial reaction was to deny what she was saying, but he really considered it for a moment and he realized she was right. That realization set off a long line of thoughts, mostly revolving around Shawn’s episodes and how hard it was to bring him out of the really bad ones. The screams that had awakened him on more than one occasion when Shawn had tried to sleep still sent shivers down his spine when he thought about them. And he was worried. What happened if Shawn did have a really bad episode and Madeline couldn’t pull him out of it? Was it possible for someone to get stuck in a memory? What if Shawn hurt himself because Carlton wasn’t there to pull him out of it?

“Listen, Carlton.” Madeline said, “What you’re feeling is perfectly natural. Shawn has been depending on you to keep him sane, not to put too fine a point on it. You’ve let yourself accept the fact that you care for Shawn a great deal; maybe even love him. You stepped into the roll of caregiver without hesitation or question. It’s going to be very hard for you to let go of that role. This is where it needs to start. But if you aren’t okay with it, he’s going to sense it and it will increase his anxiety. The higher his anxiety, the less chance he’ll have of getting through it.”

Carlton sighed deeply and scrubbed his hand across his face. For a moment he felt a flood of anger toward the man who had caused this mess in the first place. If he hadn’t been taken out in the same instant he had shot the child, Carlton would have been more than happy to go and blow his head off right now.

“When does it start getting easier?” he asked.

Madeline’s only answer was to pat his hand. Carlton took a sip of his coffee and heard the toilet flush, indicating Shawn was up. When the bedroom door opened, Carlton forced the worry into the back of his mind with the same determination that had gotten him into the role of Head Detective at the youngest age of any Head Detective before him.

“Morning, peeps.” Shawn greeted, bee-lining for the coffee pot.

“Morning.” Carlton replied.

Shawn sat down and Carlton noticed that the dark rings under his eyes were beginning to fade. They were still there, but he definitely didn’t look like he’d been punched now.

“Hey, Goose.” Madeline said.

“What’s for breakfast?” Shawn asked, “I’m starving.”

Carlton saw Madeline look at him with a minute nod. Shawn didn’t see it. He was looking at Carlton. Carlton, aware that Shawn would be able to read any insecurities on Carlton’s part as easy as reading a newspaper, forced his tone and face to reflect a neutrality he didn’t feel, “That’s going to be up to Madeline.” He said, sipping his coffee with what he hoped was a casual air, “Juliet called me this morning. She needs my help on the case she’s working on.”

Carlton saw the fear that immediately shadowed Shawn’s face and he forced himself to not react.

“Can’t she come here?” Shawn asked.

Carlton heard a barely controlled panic in his voice and it took everything he had to not react to that panic and keep his face neutral. He said, “No. I have to go to the station.”

He almost expected Shawn to offer to come with him, but he didn’t. He was staring at him, though, and Carlton watched closely to make sure he wasn’t going to have an episode.

“You’ll be fine, Shawn.” He said, “It’s not like I haven’t been gone before.”

“I know.” Shawn replied. There was an attempted calm in his tone, but Carlton could see a different truth in Shawn’s eyes before the younger man’s gaze fell on the table.

Carlton took Shawn’s chin in his hand, gently forcing him to meet his gaze, “You’ll be fine.” He repeated confidently, much more confidently than he felt, but setting it aside with the mental equivalent of brute strength.

For several moments, Shawn met his gaze, the hazel in is eyes almost acting as a mood ring as it softly shifted from a grey-blue to a grey-brown. Carlton tried hard to send an aura of calm toward him and, although he believed in auras about as much as he believed in unicorns and leprechauns, he swore he began to see a subtle shift in the set of Shawn’s face; a softening of the fear and a build toward determination.

Smiling at him, Carlton kissed him gently and stood up, “Gotta go. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Okay.” Shawn said, sulkily but not fearfully.

Carlton left the house, pulling the door closed behind him. For a moment, he stood where he was feeling the strength that had allowed him to be strong for Shawn, leave him in a sudden wave. Trembling slightly, we went to his car and drove away.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Shawn watched Carlton leave and tried to hang on to the assurance he had felt looking into the older man’s eyes. But the assurance slipped away as soon as the door had closed, effectively separating him from his ground. Shawn told himself to get a grip and face this thing. Carlton was going to have to go back to work. If he didn’t do it today, he was supposed to go tomorrow anyway. He told himself the episodes had not been as severe in the last couple days so even if he did start to slide, he would be able to pull himself out of it.

Telling was doing absolutely nothing. Anxiety was beginning to spread through him like a fast-moving tsunami, accelerating his heart-rate and his breathing. He tried to keep Carlton’s face in front of him. Carlton’s face as it had been minutes ago as he said ‘You’ll be fine, Shawn’. Facial muscles relaxed in a reassuring smile; eyes so bright and so blue meeting his. So unlike his face as Shawn had seen it from his sheltered position behind the Crown Vic. So unlike the helpless fear-induced rage that had overtaken those features as Carlton had yelled into his radio. That same rage causing his voice to roar above all the chaos, above all the…

Shawn forced his thoughts to coalesce into the image of the black Explorer. Life rose from death that day. Life. A crying baby wrapped in a blanket. Officer Sanchez looking down into the face of the life he had just helped bring into the world with an awe-struck smile. He heard the shot, knew what had happened and clung to the image of the newborn with the desperation of a drowning man.

Focusing with every bit of mental strength he had, Shawn clawed his way back to the early morning hours in his kitchen, to his table, where he sat with a death grip on his coffee cup; where his Mom was watching him very closely but not interfering. He pulled in a large lungful of air and released it slowly. As he exhaled, he felt his muscles start to relax and the death grip on his coffee cup loosened.

He glanced over to Madeleine, who smiled gently at him, “Good job, Shawn.”

It didn’t feel like a good job. The force of the memory left his shaking, but he had still _controlled_ it. And each time he was successful, it seemed the next time was minutely easier. Still, he was unable to stop the question that popped out of his mouth, “Am I ever going to be normal again, Mom?”

“You’ve _never_ been normal.” Madeleine replied, “But you will get back to full functionality. If you choose to continue being a psychic detective, you’ll be able to do it just as well as you did before all of this.”

Shawn frowned at her, “What’s that supposed to mean? ‘If’ I choose to continue?”

“Well, you’ve got to understand, Shawn. If you keep doing this, there’s always going to be a risk of something like this happening again. I think it’s important for you to consider that.”

Shawn stared at her for several long moments, considering her words carefully. Despite feeling the urge to run at various points through this whole situation, he had never once considered not continuing along the path that he and Gus had carved for themselves here. And even though his Mom had just made it blatantly clear that there _was_ a choice, he didn’t feel it. They were doing way too much good to just walk away. And now that he and Carlton were together and Carlton knew about his gift, he had a feeling they were going to double the amount of good they could do just because they wouldn’t be butting heads as they had been doing for the past several years.

“I have to do this, Mom. I don’t want to run anymore.”

Madeleine smiled at him. “I thought you would say that.”

“Everybody’s a psychic.” Shawn replied with a grin. He stood up, “Let me cook breakfast for you, Mom. What would you like? Please don’t say oatmeal on a stick because, although delicious and quite filling, it’s very a sloppy breakfast and my towels are all dirty.”

“I’d like some Denny’s.” Madeleine replied.

Shawn looked at her, thinking she was joking. There was no laughter in her eyes though, and he immediately realized what she was doing. “As long as the only fruit you want on your pancakes is mouthwatering pineapple, I can make you a perfect Denny’s breakfast right here.” He pointed at the floor under his feet with both of his index fingers and then over to the floor in front of the stove and amended, “Well, maybe over there.”

“Mmm, no.” Madeleine said, “I want the real stuff.”

“Come on, Mom.” Shawn said, all pretense gone, “I’m not ready to go outside yet.”

“You’re not going to know that for certain until you try it, Shawn.”

“I don’t want to freak out in public. That’s just embarrassing.”

“I’ve seen the patrons at Denny’s.” She said, “Nobody will even notice.”

Shawn leaned against the counter, crossing his arms and staring at the floor. He had been able to talk Carlton out of going outside, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to talk Carlton out of going outside, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to talk Madeleine out of it.

The thought of going outside was even worse than the thought of Carlton being gone. The sheer number of potential triggers out there was downright terrifying to him.

“Shawn.” Madeleine said, forcing him to look up, “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, Mom. It’s just…it’s too much all at once.”

She got up and walked over to him, “It is a lot all at once. That’s why we need to do it. If you can get through this, and I have no doubt you will, you’re going to realize you can keep this thing from controlling your life. Your memories don’t control you, Shawn. You control your memories.”

He stared at her awhile longer, knowing she was right. But that knowledge did very little to calm him at the moment. He could feel his hands wanting to tremble, even though his arms were crossed, and he was pretty sure his heart was going to tear its way out of his chest with the strength of its terrified beat. He took a steadying breath that didn’t steady him at all and nodded, “Okay, Mom. Denny’s it is.”

* * *

Madeleine drove, which was probably a good thing. From the second Shawn had stepped outside his front door, he had been fighting an impending anxiety attack. For the first few minutes of the drive, he was afraid to even look around for fear of catching sight of something that could potentially spiral him. He sat in the passenger seat, staring fixedly at his feet underneath the dash. Madeleine seemed to deliberately ignore this fact as she carried on a perfectly normal flow of conversation with him.

“Oh! When did Sophia’s Closet close?”

Shawn heard the tone of a direct question, but it hung in the air for several moments before it really sunk in that she was waiting for an answer. He tried to focus, tried to pull himself away from the expectation of impending disaster. He glanced at her distractedly, noticing how she was very carefully avoiding looking at him.

“Who’s Closet what?” He asked, realizing he had only caught half of the question.

“Sophia’s Closet.” Madeleine repeated, point toward the passenger window, “When id it close?”

Instinctively, Shawn’s gaze followed the direction of her pointing finger. He saw a store front wearing the shadowed remains of a sign that had been removed. Sophia’s Closet was still visible. The light brown stood out in contrast to the darker brown of the rest of the building. The last time he had been down this particular road, the sign had still been up, but the windows had all been empty.

“At least four months.” He said as the light turned green and Madeleine continued on, “It was empty the last time I went by.”

He watched as a young woman walking along the sidewalk stopped to look in the window of the store next to the defunct Sophia’s Closet. The stores name, Oddity Emporium, was stenciled across the window in a gaudy neon orange. The display featured on a shelf behind the window included a broken geode rock filled with an aquamarine-colored crystal and a high chair that looked a hundred years old at least. A doll roughly the size of a three-year-old child sat in the high chair. The dress covering the doll was plaid and the doll itself was black on one side and white on the other. The division of color went precisely down the middle and included long, pale blonde hard on the white side and short curly brown hair on the black side. In addition to the doll, high chair, and geode, a shed snake skin coiled in and around the other objects. The snake skin was on a whole other level of creepiness.

The young woman seemed to be having the same type of thoughts. Her face drew up and Shawn seen her mouth from the word, ‘ewww”, as she looked in the window. The black beret cap she wore brushed against the glass as she followed the curve of the snake skin.

Shawn took in all of that in the fraction of a second it took for the car to cruise by. He had just made himself a mental note to find out what other oddities the Oddity Emporium held when he realized he had interacted with the outside world in an observation and nothing had happened. That gave him the encouragement he needed to take a longer look at the outside world.

Traffic flow was very light at this time of the morning and he could only see perhaps a half dozen or so cars, going about their merry way around them. Rush hour was already past, but even when rush hour was in full effect, this particular street never got very busy. Although the sidewalks were lined with businesses, the neighborhood was far enough away from downtown that it managed to keep a more small-town air to it.

A school bus grumbled by them, heading in the opposite direction, and Shawn noted the name of the school wasn’t local. The heads of the children seated next to the windows were small and barely visible. A bus full of young children from out of town indicated a field trip versus a sporting event. Perhaps they were going to visit the museum. Or maybe the zoo.

The idea of the zoo made him think about ostriches and tennis balls, which made him think of Captain Conners and the case they had helped him solve. He grinned as he remembered Gus running blindly out of the warthog habitat as the babies started coming out. Personally, Shawn had found it kind of awesome. A little gross and messy, but awesome none-the-less.

“What are you smiling about?” Madeleine asked with a slight smile of her own, “I think that’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen on you since I got here.”

“Gus.” He said, “And what a baby warthog looks like when it’s being born.”

“That sounds like a very interesting story.” Madeleine said.

“We were helping Captain Conners solve a murder.” Shawn said.

“Conners? You’re Dad’s old boss?”

“Yeah and, well, me and Gus might have impersonated some visiting African veterinarians and they might have asked Gus to help deliver babies for a first-time mom.”

“Well, if he’s anything like he was growing up I can just imagine how well that went.”

“And your imagination probably wouldn’t be that far off.” Shawn chuckled.

“Wow.” Madeleine said as they approached the turn into Denny’s parking lot, “They’re packed. What’s up with that? I’ve never seen so many cars in that parking lot.”

Shawn glanced at their destination, seeing his Mom was right. For Denny’s, the lot was veritably packed. It took Shawn less than a second to notice almost all of the license plates were from Arizona. He had no idea why so many people from Arizona had decided they wanted to drive all of the way to this Denny’s in Santa Barbara but he didn’t like it. He could see the restaurant was packed as Madeleine made the turn.

Shawn felt his anxiety start to crank up again as his Mom started to pull into the only empty spot there seemed to be. This was too many people, too much sensory input. He wasn’t going to be able to deal with it. He knew it. They were going to walk into that restaurant and there would be all those people, all those faces. Children and adults, men and women, cats and dogs…What? Wait, no. Pets weren’t allowed in restaurants. But all those people…

He hadn’t realized how fast and shallow his breathing had gotten until his Mom laid her hand on his, “Shawn, focus on your breathing. Slow it down. In and out.”

Shawn looked at her. He loved his Mom and trusted her implicitly but right at the moment he wanted Carlton, not her. He needed to hear Carlton’s voice, telling him to breath. He needed Carlton’s hand laying gently against his cheek. Damn-it, he couldn’t focus and he knew he was getting perilously close to hyperventilating. He had to get control of this.

Closing his eyes, he focused on finding what he needed in his currently traitorous memory. Carlton kneeling in front of him, cupping his chin. Carlton pulling him close, wrapping those arms around him so tight, so secure. Shawn resting his head against Carlton’s chest, hearing his heartbeat strong and steady.

Shawn arrowed toward that heartbeat, unaware he had taken ahold of the hand his Mom had lain over his and was squeezing it so hard Madeleine was wincing as her bones ground together. The memory of that beat surrounded him and he matched his breathing to its rhythm, drawing in for five beats and exhaling for five beats.

After several moments, Shawn opened his eyes and looked at Madeleine. He was no longer risking hyperventilating, but the panic was not far away. “I can’t do this, Mom.” He said.

It was a statement of fact and Madeleine seemed to hear the truth behind the words. She nodded at him, smiling, and patted his hand, “Okay, Shawn. I’ll take you home.”

“I’m sorry.” He said, feeling miserable as she pulled back out of the parking spot.

“Don’t be.” Madeleine said, “You actually did very well. To be honest with you, Goose, I would have been surprised if you had made it inside. I just wanted to see your limit. It’ll help me help you.”


End file.
